by V. K. Sykes
“I just…I want to be stronger. Better.”
She was pretty damn fine exactly as she was. But Sloane understood that internal drive to get control. He’d been born into poverty with a mother who believed in fairytale romance, as if a fucking prince would show up and save them.
That prince never showed up, and Sara paid the price.
Sloane had sworn to never again be that powerless. He amassed wealth and power to stay in control. And he planned to use that to avenge Sara.
But Kat didn’t need to know all that. It had nothing to do with her. “You can do this. You’ve got the balance, stamina and most importantly, the will to learn.”
Color flooded her face. Turning away, she grabbed her water bottle. “If we agree to this deal, I don’t want you to do that.” She took a drink.
He walked over to her. “Do what?”
“Lie to me.” Capping her empty bottle, she busied herself with her gym bag. “I know what I am.”
Anger began to brew fast and deep in Sloane’s gut. “And what’s that?”
She straightened, the bag hanging from her fingers and her eyes bleeding a quiet agony. “Broken.”
“Who the fuck told you that?” Goddamn it, he rarely lost his temper anymore, but that sent his blood into a rage. Broken? She’d survived a brutal attack. From where he was standing, she was sexy and determined, not broken.
She looked away, her expression tight. “It doesn’t matter.”
Oh, it mattered. But she didn’t want to tell him, so that was her business. Crossing his arms, he glared. “I built an empire out of knowing good fighters when I see them. If I say you have what it takes to master self-defense, then you have it. Whether you make use of it, that’s up to you.”
Her shoulders came up, her chin lifted and her eyes brightened. “I suppose you’re never wrong.”
Other women would go all soft and gooey. Not Kat. She seemed to thrive when he got in her face and challenged her. The more he pushed her when giving instructions, the more she did. He liked that. A lot.
And she’d brought him cupcakes. He still couldn’t get over that. He’d grown used to the women sending him expensive cufflinks, watches or bottles of liquor he didn’t need to get him attention. But no one made him cupcakes. Something that she did herself. Personally. Not picking up a phone and ordering it, but doing it herself.
“I’m rarely wrong, baker girl.” He walked to the box of cupcakes, snatched them up, and then returned to take her arm. “Let’s go to the break room and see how these cupcakes taste.” He pulled open the door.
Kat checked around. “What happened to the music? It’s so quiet.”
“Everyone’s left. Gym’s closed.”
“We’re alone?” Her voice thinned, but she kept pace with him.
“Until the cleaning crew comes in an hour or so.” He led her to the door behind the counter of the juice bar and into the employee break room. There he stopped. Jesus, even sweaty and tired, barely hiding her limp, she was stunning. He wanted her, but they had to be clear first. “You’re safe with me. But we need to talk. We need to set the boundaries of my proposition.”
She tilted her head back. “I haven’t agreed.”
“You will,” he said. “I’m never wrong, remember?”
Chapter Eight
Kat surveyed the surprisingly large break room. There was a counter with a sink and microwave, a fridge next to that, and a couple vending machines. She planted herself in one of the chairs surrounding a square table in the center of the room. Sloane went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. Then he found paper plates, napkins and forks, and set them on the table.
He sank into the chair next to her. “How’s your leg?”
Crap, she’d been rubbing it. “Fine.” She reached for the cold water.
He leaned back in his chair. “Have it your way. But I’m pretty good at massage.”
Not a chance. He’d want to push up her pant leg, and she’d rather not go there. At least not yet. “So this gym, it’s huge. How many of these do you have?”
“We’re opening our sixtieth gym this week.”
Lowering her water bottle, she remembered that Sloane was more than a fighter, or even a gym owner. He was part of the world she’d never fit into. How was it he didn’t see that? “So how did you go from being a fighter to a business tycoon?”
Amusement glittered in his eyes. “Business tycoon?”
She shrugged. “It’s what Forbes called you.” Sloane’s net worth was into the billions, according to the magazine. She didn’t care about his money, but she respected his ability to grow a business.
“I made excellent money with endorsements and began building my own stable of fighters who I represented. I was able to parlay that into this through twenty-hour workdays and a drive to succeed.”
She recognized a pat answer when she heard one. So…she might respect his business sense, but Kat just owned a little bakery. He probably regarded it as a hobby like her family did. Refusing to feel any disappointment, she said, “You’ve done extremely well.”
He sat up and regarded her for long seconds. “Don’t mistake who I am, Kat. I want you, and while we’re together, I will focus on both our sexual pleasure with the same intensity that I focus on success. But it’s temporary and only when convenient. I don’t want any misunderstandings.”
Running her thumb over the base of ridged plastic of the water bottle, she considered his words. He had very clear boundaries for himself. She wondered what made him that way? But the real question was, would this work for her? Could she take this step and finally feel whole by having a sexual relationship and learning enough self-defense to feel secure? Kat had to believe that would stop her residual panic attacks.
Then she’d be free to do more with her bakery. With her life.
But love?
No. Experiencing that kind of vulnerability and trust only to have it shattered along with her bones again?
Her lungs burned at the thought.
Finally she answered, “I’m not a romantic, Sloane. I don’t see myself falling in love with you. And I don’t want your money.”
His tension eased, and he took hold of her hand. “Getting that out of the way, I want you in my bed. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you there.”
His hand was warm, and the room heated with a crackle of tension at just his touch. She had never had this strong a reaction to any man. “Being blunt again?”
“I’m being honest, Kat, and I expect the same from you. I can give you fighting lessons, and I’ll get you a trainer to spar with when I’m traveling. Aside from that, what do you want?”
Here it was. Negotiations for a sexual relationship with clear expectations and no emotional attachments. Either she went for it, or she went back to keeping to her safe zone. But she wanted more than that or she wouldn’t have come tonight. “Okay. The plus-one. I’ll do it for you if I can work it around my schedule. But I’d like you to go to an engagement party with me next Saturday.”
“Are you delivering a cake, or a guest at the event?”
She hesitated, wondering if a family function was a boundary he didn’t want to cross. Guess she’d find out. “It’s family. My brother’s engagement party at my parents’ house. I had decided against taking a plus-one.” God, shut up.
“Ah.” He leaned forward and opened the box on the table.
He studied the four cupcakes like they were something special. What was he thinking? Unable to stand it, she said, “There’s chocolate fudge, lemon, vanilla latte and red velvet with cream cheese frosting.”
He shot her a little-boy grin over the lid of the box. “What kind do you want?”
Wow, he really got excited over cupcakes. She shook her head. “They’re for you, Sloane.” Wisps of velvety joy curled in her chest. She’d annoyed her parents with her baked gifts while growing up. They’d preferred intellectual gifts of books or tickets to a play. They’d made it clear they thou
ght she was wasting time with her baking. But the billionaire with a rock-hard body looked like a kid let loose in a chocolate factory.
“Tell me what you like, or I’ll choose for you,” Sloane said.
Bossy much? “Chocolate.”
He pulled out a chocolate, set it on a paper plate, added a plastic fork and slid it toward her. Then he chose a lemon for himself. Peeling the paper off his, he asked, “What changed your mind about taking a plus-one to your brother’s engagement party?”
He’d wanted honesty from her, so she answered, “Okay, here it is. My ex-fiancé, David, will probably be there. It won’t matter, it was years ago when we broke up.”
“How many years?”
After pulling the wrapper off her cupcake, she folded it into a tiny triangle. “Five and a half years.” You’ll come limping back. David’s nasty words echoed in her head, making her wonder again why he’d really shown up at her bakery expressing concern for her.
“Kat.”
She set down the triangle of paper and faced him.
“Are you using me to get him back?”
Startled, she laughed. “God no. Never.” She clenched a fork in her fist, hating that she let David get to her at all. “I just don’t want to face him alone. That blunt enough for you?”
“It is, yes.” He leaned forward. “Because I don’t share, Kat. You’ll get your orgasms from me. Only me.” Relaxing back into his seat, he added, “And you will be the only woman I’ll be making come for that time as well.” He cut into the cupcake with his fork and slid it into his mouth.
Kat lost her breath at his demand. Felt her body soften and a languid need spread. His confidence, his words…it was so sexy. The way he savored the cupcake hit her lust center too. He licked the fork, long leisurely swipes of his tongue as he relished every crumb… She had to drop her gaze. Tried to focus on eating a bite of her cupcake.
“Damn, woman, that is good. There’s a pop of creamy lemon.”
Warmth flooded her, and she looked up. “It’s lemon curd. Mine has a fudge filling.”
He reached his fork across the table and sank it into her chocolate dessert. Slowly put it in his mouth, closed his eyes in evident delight. “Nice.” He dipped his fork back into his. “But I like lemon better.”
She opened her mouth, then lost her train of thought. He wasn’t eating the bite he cut. Instead, he leaned closer, holding it out to her. “It’s okay, I know what it—”
He slid the fork into her mouth. “Taste it again. For me.” His voice was low, a seductive rumble that rippled through her, arrowing down her belly and lower. The lemon was bright and tart on top of the darker chocolate flavor, but she barely noticed. She was too focused on the way her body heated, her nipples tightened.
He pulled back, his eyes fiery with a different kind of hunger. “I’ve tasted lemon and chocolate, but I haven’t tasted you.”
Kat gasped at the flood of want swamping her. “Now?”
Sloane took her plate and shoved it aside with the box. Standing, he bent over her. He clamped his hands around her waist, lifted her as if she weighed nothing and sat her on the table.
He filled her vision, his hair rumpled and sexy, as he visually drank her in. Her skin tightened and sensitized at his appraisal. “But we said no sex tonight.”
“Just a kiss, Kitten.”
“Kitten?” No one called her that.
His mouth curved. “You’re skittish, wanting my touch, but afraid. Deciding if you want to claw me or purr for me. Like a kitten.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “What if I claw you?”
“Bring it, baby. That just means you want me to tame you until you purr.” He cupped the back of her neck and stroked his thumb over her jaw.
Kat shivered as he ran his hand over the length of her braid then pulled out the band securing it and tunneled his fingers into her hair, lifting and combing through the long strands. Sensual heat speared her, and she nearly groaned.
“God, I’ve wanted to do that from the first time I saw you there in the ballroom, standing behind the pillar.” He kept sifting her hair, until he wrapped the strands around one hand.
And leaned in. Slowly. “What’s your safe gesture?”
His words feathered her lips. So close. She had to think. The three beats of her fingers on him. “Tap out.”
He shifted, pushing his legs between her thighs, slid his other hand down her spine to rest above her pants and pulled her to the edge of the table. Into him. The heat of his body imprinting on hers. “Do you want to tap?”
One of his hands held her hair, another pressed against her back. He had her caged, trapped. At his mercy. His face was so close, she could almost taste him. Wanted to taste him. “No.”
His full lips curved. “Good.” He brushed his mouth across her lips. Back and forth with light, teasing strokes. He shifted his hold on her hair, tilted her head and licked at the seam of her lips.
The warm, wet, slow lash of his tongue shot through her. She parted her mouth.
Sloane plunged in, taking possession with bold, demanding strokes of his tongue.
The kiss grew hot and wild. Kat’s heart pounded and his heat, strength and scent surrounded her. His mouth fusing with hers, his hand wound in her hair, controlling her, his palm sliding under the hem of her tank to sear her back.
A shift of his hips forced her thighs farther apart, exposing her center to the hard ridge of his erection straining his shorts. Her cleft ached and throbbed, while low in her womb emptiness yawned, desperate to be filled. She moaned, her hands latching on to his arms, trying to pull him to where she craved him. Needing more. She pushed her tongue past his, seeking more of him. He tasted of potent male mixed with the flavor of her cake, as if she had marked him. That was so damn hot.
Sloane growled low in his throat and tore his mouth away. He jerked her closer to him and kissed along her jaw, leaving a warm, wet trail.
His heart beat against her chest. Through their pants, the impossibly thick ridge of his cock rocked against her. Every twitch and pulse grazing her clit made her more desperate.
Sloane bit her earlobe.
She jerked, rubbing her clit along his erection.
“Tap,” he whispered. “Do it. Or I won’t stop. Can’t.”
She heard him. Didn’t want to. Couldn’t.
He shoved her back until she was reclining on the table. His hand slid beneath her ass, lifting her. “Tap or I’ll make you come right here, right now.” He rolled his hips into her cleft. Over her clit through her pants. She shivered.
His eyes burned with amber. A flush warmed his face. She could feel the barely controlled need driving him. He embodied raw sex and power.
So hot and a little bit scary.
“I won’t stop, Kat. I’ll rip these pants off you and lick you until you’re screaming. And then I’ll fuck you right here on the table in the gym.” He closed his eyes, straining. Then opened them. “Tap, goddammit.”
It had never been like this, so untamed and passionate. She was out of control. And that finally pierced her lust with a thread of fear. She curled her fingers.
Tapped three times on the slab of his biceps.
Sloane slid his hands from her and stepped back. Turning, he went to the wall, slapped his hands on the plaster and dropped his head. Then he stalked back to the table, picked up the bottle of water and drained it.
Kat pushed herself up to a sitting position. Watched as he tilted his head back, his throat working as he swallowed. Dragged her gaze down…
To the massive bulge of his cock tenting his loose shorts.
He had wanted her and stopped at her signal. In spite of her achy frustration, that gave her a sense of power. Only three little taps, and he stopped.
Sloane set the bottle down, turned and crossed his arms, his face a mask. “What time do I pick you up for the engagement party?”
“You’ll go?”
He crossed the small distance between them, his gaze locked on her
s. He stopped just out of reach. The whisper of his breath caressed her skin. “I nearly lost my mind from a kiss, completely forgot about the cleaning crew that will be here in a few minutes. And more importantly, I damn near broke my promise to you that there would be no sex tonight. All. From. One. Kiss.”
He wasn’t touching her, yet her skin crackled with tension as if he were. She didn’t know how to answer him.
“I’m not going to be sane again until I’m inside you. Deep inside you.”
She shivered. He’d done this to her, somehow shattered her shields, the ability to disconnect, and left her vulnerable. Needy.
Should she be excited or terrified? Trying to regain her wits, she slid off the table, rushed to the chair and gathered up her gym bag. Time to leave and regroup.
A hand hit the door, stopping her from opening it. “What time, Kat?”
He loomed right behind her, his body surrounding her. His voice was low and demanding. Striving for calm, she made a decision. Acknowledged the truth about herself. She wanted this with Sloane. When he touched her, kissed her, the sexually aggressive part of her that had been locked down and repressed for years, hell maybe forever, began kicking at the bars caging her. She faced him. “Six.”
He lifted his hand, tracing a lock of her hair, probably one of the lavender streaks. “It’s dark out now. I’m going to walk you to your car. But I’m not risking another kiss.”
She needed distance from him. Desperately. “I’m fine. I can walk to my car.”
He dropped her hair and stiffened. “When you’re with me, I will make sure you’re safe. Every damn time.”
Something raw and vulnerable shadowed his eyes. Hurt. Pain. An emotion so vicious, it sucked out all the light.
Her heart clenched in an ache for him. She started to lift her hand, needing to ease him to…
Sloane blinked. His face shuttered into stone. He reached past her and opened the door.
Kat dropped her arm.
But she couldn’t shake the sensation that Sloane Michaels had been to hell.
And he hadn’t found his way back.
