Wild for Him

by Janelle Denison

  Kevin had no such qualms. "I need a dance partner, and Christy looks like she could use a break from all that business stuff." he said, and headed in her direction.

  Seconds later, Kevin was leading Christine toward the dance floor. She looked relieved at the interruption and the chance to enjoy the music, while Craig glared at Kevin in annoyance for stealing Christine away. Leanne came up to Craig, clearly eager to pick up where Christine left off, but Crosby wasn't interested and left her standing there with a pout on her face.

  Knowing that he had nothing to worry about with Kevin dancing with Christine, Ben returned his attention to the conversation at the table.

  The next few hours passed quickly. When Kevin and Jon weren't keeping Christine busy out on the dance floor, a slew of friends stopped by the table they were sitting at to wish her a happy birthday. Craig managed to pull her away once more to blow out the candles on her birthday cake and to cut the first slice, but she returned right after with a plate holding a large piece of her cake.

  Instead of taking the seat next to his, she surprised him by sitting down on his lap, the flirty hem of her dress rising much too high on her thighs. If that wasn't enough to overload his senses and set him on fire, then the way she licked her glossy bottom lip did the trick.

  Her eyes widened in mock innocence. "Oops. I forgot a fork."

  He recognized that shameless look in her eyes and knew he was in big trouble. After being good all night, Christine was suddenly turning bad. Very bad.

  "I guess he'll just have to feed it to you with his fingers," Ronnie suggested, laughter in her voice.

  Christine touched her fingers to his cheek, her oh-so-sweet smile concealing a more brazen plan. "You would do that for me, wouldn't you, Ben?"

  He hesitated, knowing where something like this could lead. Knowing, too, that she was deliberately taunting him, daring him to give into the desire arching between them. If he wasn't trying so damned hard to keep things platonic tonight, it would have been fun to give in to her request. He was just about to tell her he'd go and get her a fork, but then Jon spoke and changed his mind.

  "I'll feed the cake to you, Christy," Jon offered willingly, a gregarious smile on his lips.

  "Like hell you will," Ben muttered, just loud enough for his friend to hear, and laugh. Ben decided he could do this and not let it turn into a seductive game between them.

  Breaking off a small corner of the cake, he brought it up to Christine's parted lips, and she took the morsel from him, her tongue barely grazing the tips of his fingers. Another piece, and she ate it with delicate little bites in between moaning her appreciation for the taste. She even fed him a small portion of the moist, yellow cake.

  The process was all very sweet and chaste… until he reached for a napkin to wipe the frosting off his fingers.

  She grabbed his wrist to stop him. "You can't waste the frosting," she said, chastising him. "It's the best part of the cake."

  Then she proceeded to lick the sticky buttercream from his fingers. Slowly. Leisurely. Using her tongue to swipe the sweetness from his skin, and her teeth to scrape the confection from the pad of his thumb. By the time she was done, he was grateful that she was sitting on his lap, because her brazen display had made him as hard as stone and he was certain she could feel his erection pressing against her hip.

  As if Christine hadn't just turned him inside out with wanting her, she struck up a conversation with her friends, giving his libido time to cool.

  The upbeat song that the band was playing came to an end, and a slower melody began to fill the room. "I think we'll wind things down for a little bit," one of the band members said into the microphone as the lights were dimmed. "Let's have the birthday girl pick someone special to dance with during this song, which is titled 'Someone Like You'."

  Christine looked down at him, her gaze adoring and filled with an emotion he refused to name. "That special person would be you," she said, and stood, extending her hand toward him.

  Ben didn't dance. It just wasn't his thing, which was why he didn't mind when Kevin and Jon had fun with Christine as a partner. But this was different. This was more about a good-bye for him, and he just couldn't pass up the chance to hold her close one last time.

  Taking her hand, he led her to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms as the slow song played and the singer's voice crooned the romantic lyrics. He placed a hand at the base of her spine, and she twined her arms around his neck, aligning their bodies so that they were touching intimately from chest to thighs, and igniting sparks of heat with the slightest move they made. She rested her head on his shoulder with her lips grazing his neck, and he pressed his cheek to her soft, fragrant hair. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, memorizing the scent of her skin, the soft, yielding press of her curves against him, and the way she curled into him so trustingly.

  Letting her go tonight was going to kill him, even if it was the right thing to do.

  After a while, she pulled back and looked into his eyes, her fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. Her beautiful expression was soft with reverence… and the undeniable glow of love. It was the latter emotion that completely and utterly slayed him. Uncaring of the fact that they were standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor, he lowered his head and kissed her.

  One… last… time.

  Her lips automatically parted beneath his, so soft and giving, just like the woman herself. Their tongues touched, mated seductively, and he tasted her desire, her escalating need. By the time the kiss ended, she was breathing hard, and he was already withdrawing emotionally, from her and their relationship.

  "Take me home, Ben," she whispered, wearing her own heart on her sleeve. "I want to be alone with you."

  He swallowed hard, unsure what to say to her but, "Okay," because he would be taking her home.

  And then he was going to walk away.

  STILL out on the dance floor, Christine could feel Ben pulling back, retreating from all the feelings swirling between them, and knew that tonight she'd be fighting for the one thing she wanted most in her life.

  Ben.

  She understood the past pain that scarred him and kept him from taking a chance with her. His mother's abandonment. The loss of his fiancée in the most horrific way. The guilt and remorse he'd buried in the deepest recesses of his soul over the fact that he hadn't been able to save Kim from an ambush when it had been his job to protect her. And now, he believed that there was nothing left in his heart to give to another woman.

  Christine knew differently.

  She knew the fears he harbored. That he believed their background and lifestyles made them too incompatible and they'd never mesh for a long-term relationship. That he'd never be able to live up to certain expectations, and that he'd never have her mother's approval.

  As if she cared about any of that.

  Christine figured she had enough ammunition to blow every single one of his excuses into smithereens. And as soon as they arrived back at her place, she planned to do just that.

  The slow song ended, and she stepped out of his embrace. "I need to use the ladies' room before we go," she said, suddenly realizing just how full her bladder was. "I'll meet you back at the table."

  "All right."

  He went in one direction, and she headed the opposite way toward the restrooms. By the time she walked back out, her mind was already forming every defense it could to any possible excuse Ben tossed her way. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she nearly collided into Jodie, one of the bar waitresses, who was standing in front of her.

  "I'm sorry, Jodie," Christine said, giving the other woman a friendly smile. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

  "Actually, I was waiting for you." The other woman returned Christine's smile with one of her own. "Mr. Crosby said he promised you a bottle of champagne from his private collection for your birthday. He asked me to take you down to the cellar so you can pick out what you'd like."

  Ea
rlier, when she'd been with Craig while cutting her cake, he'd told her he wanted to give her a bottle of champagne to celebrate her birthday. At the time, Christine told him that any kind of gift really wasn't necessary, even though he'd insisted. But now that she was leaving with Ben and heading back to her place, the thought of having a bottle of champagne to share with him sounded like a nice idea to compliment her planned seduction.

  "The cellar is this way," Jodie said, then led Christine down a private corridor behind the main bar.

  They passed a few closed doors, then stopped at the very last one at the end of the hallway. Jodie took a ring of keys from her pocket, unlocked the wooden door, and opened it wide. After switching on a light that illuminated the lower portion of the room, she started down the wooden stairs and Christine followed behind.

  As they descended into the cellar, Christine shivered and rubbed her bare arms as cold, refrigerated air cascaded over her skin. "Wow, if I'd known how freezing it was down here. I would have worn my sweater."

  Jodie laughed. "I know it's a bit on the chilly side, but we have to keep the cellar set at about fifty-seven degrees to keep the various wines at their peak."

  The bar waitress strolled across the surprisingly large room, which looked as though it was a basement that had been recently renovated with hardwood floors, and customized ground-to-ceiling racks that could easily accommodate hundreds of bottles of wine. Most of the cubbyholes were filled, and Jodie came to a stop in front of an area that had been sectioned off from the rest of the room.

  "Here is Craig's private collection, and those are the champagnes right over there," she said, pointing a finger in that direction. "He said for you to help yourself to whatever one you'd like. If you want something really nice, I'd say go for the Krug."

  "Thanks. I'll take a look and see what he has." Christine wasn't interested in picking the most expensive bottle, just something she and Ben would enjoy.

  Jodie shifted anxiously on her feet. "I've got to get back to my drink orders before they pile up, but you can take your time down here. When you leave, just shut the door behind you. It automatically locks from the outside."

  "Great. Thanks, Jodie."

  Once the other woman was gone, Christine scanned the wooden racks and pulled out a few of the foil-topped bottles to read the labels. After a few minutes of perusing Craig's very expansive collection, and shivering from the cold, she came across a Dom Perignon Rosé. Remembering once having that particular champagne at a wedding and liking the taste, she decided to choose that bottle.

  Just as she turned around, she heard the cellar door at the top the stairs close with a soft "click", then slow, steady footsteps coming down the wooden stairs until Craig appeared in the chamber below, looking impeccably dressed in a black suit and crisp white shirt. His hair looked mussed, as though he'd run his fingers through the strands, but it was the eerily calm yet calculated look in his eyes that sparked a sense of unease deep inside her stomach.

  "Hey," she said, forcing a cheerful note to her voice and acting as though nothing was wrong. "I just finished picking a bottle of champagne and was coming back up to thank you."

  With his hands tucked into the front pockets of his dress pants, he slowly, gradually, strolled toward her, a wholly sexual smile curving the corners of his mouth. "You can thank me just as well down here." His dark gaze raked down the length of her, not bothering to disguise the fact that he wanted her.

  His meaning was clear, and as frantic as her heart was beating beneath her breast, she refused to panic or allow him to get the upper hand in the situation if she could help it. She had to get out of there and away from him, pronto.

  "It's a bit cold in here, and the party is upstairs." She smiled and visibly shivered for effect. "How about we take this champagne with us and celebrate where it's nice and warm and my teeth aren't chattering?"

  She moved to the right to go around him and bolt for the stairs, but he countered the move and blocked the way with his body.

  His stare turned hot and predatory. "I thought we could have our own private party down here in the cellar, where it's nice and quiet and we can be all by ourselves."

  Oh, God. She couldn't believe this was happening to her. She hugged the chilled champagne to her chest, her fingers gripping the neck just in case she had to use the bottle as a weapon. It was the only protection she had.

  "I really need to go, Craig," she said, asserting a firm, confident tone to her voice, despite the fear nearly strangling her. "Ben is waiting for me."

  As he moved even closer, he casually ran his finger along a rack holding bottles of wine. "Well, he can wait a bit longer, now can't he?"

  Christine lifted her chin, wishing she was taller. Craig was a big, substantial man, and as he neared, he made her feel too damned small and vulnerable, which she hated. Finally, Craig stopped, leaving only a few feet between the two of them. Behind her was a rack of wines, and in front of her, much too far away, were the stairs leading to her freedom. She knew she had to distract him in order to get there.

  "Ben will come looking for me if I don't get back to him," she said, knowing it was true.

  "He can look for you all he wants, but the cellar door is locked from the outside, and he doesn't have a key." He smiled in a way that made her skin crawl. "According to Jodie, nobody knows you're down here but her, and me, and I made sure she's much too busy to bother us."

  Then that meant she was on her own, and she figured the direct approach was all she had left in her favor. "But that doesn't stop me from leaving."

  Curling her fingers even more tightly around the neck of the bottle, she stepped around him and headed for the stairs, but he grabbed her upper arm to stop her. Just as he pulled her back around, she swung the bottle of champagne at his head.

  He saw it coming and ducked, then came back up just as she aimed it at his head from the other direction. He caught her wrist before the bottle could connect with the side of his face and squeezed tight, until the crushing pain he exerted was too unbearable and she dropped the champagne. The bottle crashed to the floor, exploding in a spray of bubbly liquid and shards of glass that pricked and cut at her bare legs.

  He shoved her against a nearby wall, so hard that her head hit the concrete surface and she swore she saw stars. When her vision came back into focus, she realized that he'd braced his hands on either side of her shoulders and had wedged a thigh between hers to keep her trapped against the wall and his body. His face was right in front of hers, and he looked pissed.

  His jaw clenched tight, and anger flashed in his eyes. "That was a very expensive bottle of champagne."

  If he expected her to apologize, he had another thing coming. "Go to hell," she hissed.

  She struggled against him to get away, aiming her nails at his face and eyes, but he was so much stronger than she was, and he managed to subdue her much too easily. He caught both of her hands in one of his, then reached toward a nearby shelf and grabbed a long, thin piece of rope he must have left there earlier. He yanked her arms behind her back and within seconds had the rope wrapped around her wrists and her hands tightly secured.

  He was breathing hard by the time he was done, a quiet kind of fury brewing within him. "You really shouldn't be so rude and unappreciative, Christine." He pressed her up against the wall once again, then framed her jaw with one of his big hands so that she couldn't move her head at all, making her all too aware of just how truly helpless she was. "I planned this little surprise birthday party down here just tor you and me, and you're not going anywhere until we're done celebrating. So, you might as well relax and enjoy yourself."

  She shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air, and everything to do with what his words implied. "If you don't let me go, I'll scream so loud your eardrums will break."

  He laughed, the sound arrogant. "You go right ahead. It won't do you much good. Between the cellar being soundproof, and how loud it is upstairs with the band playing, you can scream all yo
u want and no one will hear you." The pressure of his hand on her face eased as he trailed his fingers down her chest to the slope of her breasts. "In fact, I'm fairly certain that by the time I'm done with you, your throat will be raw from screaming."

  Bile seemed to fill her mouth. "You're sick."

  Her words didn't affect him at all. He was too caught up in his own madness to care. "I've waited patiently for you to come around. For months, I dealt with your rejections. For weeks, I've watched you with Ben, waiting for you to tire of him and come to your senses about me." His voice rose with anger. "I'm tired of waiting, Christy. I'm tired of you fucking another guy and being a whore when you should be mine." In his rage, he grabbed one of the thin rhinestone straps holding up her dress and yanked it hard, ripping it off and sending those small crystals bouncing to the floor.

  Terror spiked through her. She could see what was coming, knew that if she didn't keep him talking and distracted that he was going to rape her. Or worse. "Why are you doing this, Craig?" she asked, her calm question belying the fear clawing inside her. "I thought we were friends."

  "Friends?" His voice rose incredulously as he pushed away from her, his expression filled with disgust. "You used me, Christy. I've helped you with your business and given you contacts. I was there for you after your nasty breakup with Jason, ready and willing to be the man you needed in your life. But all you did was take and take and take, then discard me like a piece of trash when you no longer needed me."

  His bitter words broadsided her, and she suspected that they stemmed from a whole lot more than just her. She was most likely just the catalyst that had sent him over the edge. "You know that's not true," she said, trying to reason with him. "I've appreciated everything you've done for me."