“I did not ask for your explanation. Nor did I ask you to approach my desk. I did not say you could move or speak.”
“Oh.”
Gage stands and sighs. “I see we need to get right to work. Emma, put your papers on the desk, then walk to the window and take off your clothes. All of them. Do as I say.”
A rush of panic races up through me. “What?”
“No questions, no hesitation. Do I need to repeat myself?”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, Sir.”
“Then do it.”
“Yes, Sir.” Shit. Certainly he is not going to make me do what he said earlier today. Will he?
As I approach the windows I remember the day I first set foot in his office. The floor to ceiling windows are spectacular, but even more so, the mountain landscape outside them, along with the view of the city of Billings.
I wonder if I should just pick a spot. Inside my chest, my heart flutters. Lower, I feel sexual stirrings that titillate me.
“There,” he said. “Right there.”
I stop and glance back at Gage.
“Look straight ahead, Emma, out the window.” I turn and face the mountain. He continues. “You kept me waiting, Emma. It was uncomfortable waiting for you. I didn’t know where you were, if something had happened to you, or if you were okay. This was a great inconvenience, because I have a strict schedule, and I keep to my schedule, hour by hour. I had three minutes to spare, Emma, and I wanted to discuss something with you. You kept me waiting. I was in the dark, not knowing where you were and I did not like that.
“So,” he continues, “You will now wait for me while I work and until another window of opportunity opens up.”
I want to glance back at him but don’t. Should I say something? Apologize? I am not sure of the rules.
“Undress, Emma.”
I start to kick out of my shoes.
“Leave those on.”
He says nothing more. His presence behind me, though, is palpable.
I unzip and remove my skirt and blouse, then my bra, tossing them all aside. Gage still has my panties in his jacket pocket, I suppose.
I look out at the mountains.
“Move closer to the window, Emma.”
Taking a deep breath, I step up to the glass, wondering what one could actually see, from twenty-two floors below. As I approach, I scan the horizon, searching for other buildings or structures that might have a direct view into Gage’s office. I wonder about the glass itself. Does it reflect so that you can’t really see in at all?
“Closer to the glass, Emma.”
I jump at his words, realizing that Gage is closer behind me now. I stop thinking about what is outside the window and start to worry about what, or rather who, is in the room with me. Gage crowds my back and urges me forward.
“Lean into the glass, Emma,” he breathes. “Press your breasts and your tummy against the glass. Yes. There. His hands settle on my waist and he skims his palms up my sides, over my ribs and the sides of my breasts, and finally lifting my arms. He raises them over my head and places my palms flat to the glass. I’m beginning to realize that he likes my arms above my head for some reason, and if I were to admit it, I like them there, too. I feel open and exposed and incredibly sexy.
Looking down at the city, I watch the movement of cars and people below, feeling rather decadent and completely aroused at the thought that anyone might be able to see me. Gage’s palms cover the backs of my hands and he presses them into the glass, my fingers splayed. Then he runs his hands along the backs of my arms, over my shoulders and very softly rakes his knuckles down the ridge of my spine.
I find my breathing coming in short quips. His touch is exquisite and quite a turn-on.
“Don’t move, Emma,” he whispers. “Stay just like that. Don’t move.”
He lowers his body and then glides both hands over my bottom, cupping the cheeks of my ass, and then slowly down my right leg to my ankle. He nudges my foot wider to the right.
“Emma, spread your legs.” His voice is low, wicked, and incredibly sexy.
I do as he says.
I now stand in the window fully open, spread wide, exposed to the world—or rather, all of Billings—while every sex hormone in my body screams for attention.
For several minutes, I stand there in silence, knowing he is behind me. Looking at me. Studying me? What is he doing?
I can smell his scent. The whiff of his musky cologne mingles with a hint of tobacco—does he smoke?—and the raw power of his masculinity. It is a scent I want to imprint on my psyche now and forever more. He is such a man.
Very much unlike the boys I dated back in North Carolina.
I worry about what my rear view looks like. I’d put on those ten pounds or so the past few months. Most of them had landed on my ass. Oh God, what if I have dimples? He may take one look at me and—
“Emma, relax.”
His voice is almost a whisper.
“Take a deep breath.”
I do and exhale.
“There. Isn’t that better?”
I nod, unsure whether I am permitted to speak.
“You are beautiful, Emma. I like the way you look standing there in my window. How are you feeling?”
How am I feeling?
“You may speak.”
“Um, I’m feeling a little cold and exposed and—”
“Sexy?” His breath is hot against my ear. “Are you feeling sexy, my Emma?”
My Emma. I want to melt.
“Am I allowed to feel sexy?” I ask. “I mean, this is punishment, right?”
Gage laughs and steps back. “Dear sweet Emma. Your punishment may be uncomfortable and sometimes it may be a little painful, but you may also find it sexy—at first. Later, you may not think that.”
“Oh.”
“Close your eyes, Emma.” Gage’s voice is pure sin, especially when he lowers it and speaks on a breath. “And no more talking.”
I close them. There is a noise behind me I cannot quite discern. A bit of a zip, perhaps. I wait and do not hear it again. After a moment, I feel Gage’s hands at my temples followed by something silky placed over my eyes. Blindfold? Taking his time, Gage pulls the fabric taut and knots it at the back of my head.
His tie. Yes. He removed his tie. I try to picture him standing behind me with his top shirt buttons undone and his tie gone.
I can see nothing, of course. Not even if I try. I close my eyes behind the blindfold to try to center myself, because suddenly without the ability to see, I feel a little off-kilter.
Breathe, Emma, breathe.
I concentrate on shallow, even breaths and wait. I am unsure whether Gage is behind me or at this desk. I listen for small sounds that might give his location away.
And listen.
I’m going to stand here the rest of the day, I tell myself. But of course, this is my punishment for not returning in three minutes as Gage instructed. I must do better next time.
The glass, which was at first cool to the touch, is now warmed by my body. I find myself clinging to the window to steady my stance. My mind starts to play tricks on me. What if the glass breaks? Ridiculous. What if someone has a telescope and is watching me right this minute? What if—
I feel something behind me. I wait, my breathing coming quicker and a bit heavier. I feel something, I am certain. A brush of clothing? The skiff of a breeze from the air conditioner? Something.
There. Again.
Every nerve ending I possess is on edge. Especially the ones between my legs.
I want to squirm against the window. Suddenly I want to grind my pussy into the window until I come.
I want Gage to say something so I know where he is.
Then a touch. Ever so lightly, at the base of my spine. A fingertip. I concentrate on that touch and shiver as it trails down between my bottom cheeks. Slowly. I wonder if my breath is leaving marks on the glass, my cheek flat against the windo
w now.
The finger moves lower, deeper into my crack, and pushes between my legs.
I huff out a hard breath.
Gage is silent behind me.
I think the only part of my body that is moving is my lungs, as I pant in and out.
His finger pushes in, and slides out, from between my legs. Its length strokes my most intimate parts. Repeatedly. Focused solely on the image of Gage’s finger slipping in, and then pushing upward into my folds, I shudder.
And gasp.
Standing silent behind me, Gage increases the pressure. The sensual stirrings inside me beg to come out to play. I feel on edge, every part of my lower half on icy fire.
And then…then… Nothing.
No touch. No finger.
Nothing.
I stand there, breathing heavy on the glass.
Chapter Ten
Gage stepped away from Emma. Silently, he moved backward several more steps and studied her. His gaze traveled up from her narrow waist to her feminine shoulders, then honed in on the slack of her pretty mouth pressing against the window. Her breath fanned out and receded, leaving a temporary cloud of condensation behind.
Her fingers, flat against the glass earlier, now curled at the fingertips, as if clutching at the window. Her arms, once outstretched, now lowered a bit and crooked at the elbows, as if fatigued. She hugged the glass window, her legs spread, her ankles several feel apart.
Her body shimmered with a fine sheen of perspiration and quivered slightly, once and again. She was beginning to feel the discomfort.
He shouldn’t have touched her, but damned if he could help himself.
His gaze fell to the swell of her ass and zeroed in on the space between her legs, where he’d just withdrawn his finger. He caught his breath at the sight and the remembrance of the feel of her sex. She was an incredible turn-on for him, and it was all he could do to control his actions and leave her be. He wanted to fuck her. Not dominate her, just fuck her. His cock throbbed with the idea of it. But not yet. She was not ready.
Nor was he.
Slowly, he brought his finger up to his nose and inhaled her scent, then closed his eyes and drew his finger across his lips.
He relished in the essence of her. His Emma.
For a while.
He turned and went to his desk, settling behind it. Temporarily dismissing where his brain was taking him. Where his cock was taking him. He wondered what she must be thinking now, standing there, blindfolded. Naked. Exposed. And vulnerable.
Waiting. Not knowing what was coming next.
She trusted him. That was apparent and a good thing. He didn’t take that lightly. He would not abuse that trust. Glimpsing at her, his heart kicked up its cadence, beating rapidly in his chest.
He’d earned her trust. That meant so much.
But she was innocent, in so many ways. Yet, she was here. She came willingly with no clue of what she was getting into. And there she still stayed, standing there, and would until he told her to get back away.
“Emma,” Gage said. He watched her body flinch a little when he called out her name. “When I tell you that I want you in three minutes, I mean three minutes. Do you understand?”
Her voice was soft, low. “Yes, Sir.”
“Do you have something to say to me about that, Emma?”
Her left cheek was still pressed against the glass; her face pointed toward the back wall of the office. Still blindfolded, of course. “Yes. I apologize for being late and not following your instructions to be in your office in three minutes. I have learned my lesson, Sir.”
Gage felt his mouth crack into a slight smile. “I see,” he said.
Then he turned back to his work, dismissing her. For the next fifteen minutes he worked, glancing occasionally to Emma to see how she was holding up. Finally, he noticed the time.
He rose and silently rounded his desk and stepped up behind her. For a moment, he simply stood and admired her. His black tie was a stark contrast to her honey blond hair and creamy pale complexion. Her bottom lip was plump and red, as if she’d been biting it. He allowed himself one more slow perusal of her body, so hungry for her he could hardly stand it, and then reached for the blindfold and untied the knot at the back of her head.
Emma flinched but held her stance.
Gage said softly, “Emma, you may step back from the window now.”
She didn’t immediately move. After a moment, she pushed away from the glass, rocked on her heels, and stumbled to the floor.
****
Gage felt like the bottom had fallen out of his stomach. As Emma tumbled to the floor, a foreign sensation gripped his gut and wouldn’t let go. His heart galloped in his chest and in seconds, he was at her side. Inside his head, he called himself every kind of bastard. She’d stood there too long. Dammit. He had to remember she was new at this.
“Emma!”
She pushed up and looked at him, brushing the hair out of her face. Her arms braced her upper body as she sat on her left hip. “I’m okay. Just stumbled. Trying to get my land legs again.”
Then she smiled.
Gage sighed in relief. That sickening feeling in his gut started to dissipate. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’m fine.”
Gage didn’t know what came over him, but in practically one motion he stood and roughly gathered her into his arms, and carried her to the sofa on the other side of the office—away from the windows.
He laid her on the soft leather and sat on the edge, looking down at her. “Are you sure you are okay? Do your legs hurt? God, Emma, I…”
He stopped and watched her face, full of question. She studied him back. He’d almost said, I’m sorry, and caught himself.
He’d never told a woman he was sorry before. Then again, he’d never before felt the sensation that landed in the pit of his gut when Emma fell.
Shit.
“I’m okay, Gage,” she said softly. “Just a little stiff and sore. It’s okay.”
“Maybe it’s not okay.” He shook his head. “I let it go on too—”
Stopping him with a hand to his forearm, she stared, looking a little puzzled.
Of course she’d be puzzled. The last thing she expected him to be was apologetic. Or kind.
Waiting a few more seconds, she said, “It was my punishment, Gage. I understand that. It’s okay.”
Damn. Gage’s heart kicked up a beat. She gets it.
He dropped his chin in a nod. “Okay.”
A part of him wanted to turn her over and massage the kinks out of her thighs and calves and then take her from behind. Repeatedly. He wanted to kiss her, mingling their lips and mouths, and breathe her breath. He wanted to ravish her body from head to toe, violate every orifice of her body, and refuse to let her come.
Until he was ready, and until he gave her permission.
But that would have to wait. Instead, he stood and stepped back from the sofa. He needed a little distance, and with the way she was looking up at him right now, he needed it quickly.
“Gather your clothes, Emma, and get dressed. Your shift is over. Go home and get ready for me to pick you up at seven.”
Looking up at him, she said, “Oh?”
“The clothes you are to wear will be delivered to your apartment by six. We have a reservation at seven-fifteen.”
“But what about my homework?”
Gage turned and headed toward his desk, putting some distance between them. “You will just have to find time to fit it all in, Ms. Lavender.”
“Yes, Sir,” he heard her say behind him.
****
Amanda McIntyre pulled onto the dirt road at the entrance to the Branded Filly and sped toward the main house. Her old pick-up truck rumbled over the washboard road, sending dust and gravel flying. She was going to get answers about Gage’s behavior, come hell or high water. Of course, she’d never get anything out of Gage, but perhaps she could wrangle some nugget of information out of Cole. Although he woul
d be loyal to Gage until the end, it was possible she could convince him to spill his guts.
Or maybe accidentally let something slip.
Something was definitely going on. Gage’s behavior last Sunday was off. He usually couldn’t wait to get inside her, but that day, it was like he didn’t want to touch her. At all. Anywhere. Anyway.
She had waited long enough for Gage to come to his senses. She’d let him have his way for far too many years. Now, it was time for her to take control.
And goddamn it, she was going to take it.
As she pulled up to the parking area between the house and barn, she called Cole’s name out her window. Throwing the truck into park, she exited and slammed the driver’s side door. “Cole! Where the fuck are you!”
Her boots clunked against the wooden plank porch as she crossed it and headed toward the back door. She grasped the doorknob and rattled it. Locked.
“Dammit!”
Whirling, she stepped to the edge of the porch and peered off toward the barn and adjacent corrals. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she spanned the horizon to see if she could see him, or anyone else, for that matter.
“Damn them all!” Amanda snorts. “Where the fuck is everyone?”
Gage was in Billings, she knew, or at one of the other WestInn locations. Rarely was he at the ranch during the week. But Cole or even Helen should be around—somewhere. Or one of the ranch hands. The voice behind her startled her.
“Amanda? What the hell?”
She whirled. “Cole. You scared the shit out of me.”
“What do you want, Amanda. Gage isn’t here.”
“I don’t want to talk to Gage. I want to talk to you.”
“What in the Sam Hell you doing hollering from the truck coming up the road?”
She approached Cole and stood square in front of him. Damn, he was almost as good looking as Gage. He’d aged as they all had since high school, but she would swear on her best horse he’d gotten better looking with every year. She wondered why he’d not married.
But no matter. She wasn’t after him. She wanted Gage. “We need to talk. I need information.”
He eyed her, his gaze narrowed. “I don’t know that we have much to talk about, Amanda,” he drawled. “What do you want?”
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 217
