He squeezed her fingers, then let go to add more champagne to her glass. “Then you shall enjoy the evening ahead.”
Chapter Twelve
She’d expected to have a great time, but not to be entirely swept off her feet. Apparently when Alec made a decision about his personal life—as he did in the workplace—he committed himself to that direction without reservation.
At the restaurant, the maître d’ escorted them to a private room via a quiet hallway. With its discreetly curtained doors and soft chamber music, it felt sealed away from the rest of the world. A waiter brought more of the same champagne—after Alec confirmed she wouldn’t prefer another—and left them to peruse the menus.
“So,” she said, wavering between the prawns en croute and the espresso-rubbed lamb, “is this a secret affair?”
“Because of the private room?”
“That and not coming up to my apartment.”
Alec set his menu aside and tipped his head in acknowledgment. “The private room, yes. I’ll explain how I think we should go about this, subject to your approval, naturally. Your flat—” He looked chagrined. “I didn’t mean it as such. It felt...invasive to breach your personal space that way.”
She dipped some bread into the herbed olive oil, amused with him and his manners. “If we’re going to do this—as it seems we are—you’ll be invading a lot more of my personal space than that.”
“A point,” he agreed, raising his flute to toast her, but with an ironic touch. Then set it down and studied it. “I find myself still experiencing the unsettling notion that I’ll be somehow despoiling you.”
“I’m hardly a virgin, Alec.” The laugh, like the champagne, bubbled giddily through her.
He glanced at her, obliquely. “There are levels of innocence.”
“And what you have in mind will divest me of what I have left?”
His lips curved, expression going from chagrined to cruelly sensual. Her belly fluttered and she nearly squirmed in her chair at the sudden certainty that at that moment he imagined her engaged in something deeply debauched.
“Yes.”
He rose and went to the doors, pressing a button to lock the door and signal they should not be disturbed, then came to stand behind her. Just as, she realized, he’d stood that day in the conference room. “Eyes forward,” he directed. “Hands folded in lap. Don’t move.”
The flutter in her belly became a hard thumping as she obeyed. All those dark fantasies shimmered in her mind, resolving with bright clarity into this moment, into the thrill of the reality. Of not knowing what he intended and throwing herself into his power with utter abandon.
His fingers brushed her arm and he might as well have touched her between her legs. Shivering, she bit back a moan and held still as he stroked up, repeating that first caress. Over her collarbone, smoothing along her throat. Aware that her breasts rose and fell with her heated breathing, she felt his gaze there as a tangible sensation.
The hand on her other arm startled her into making a small sound. Not distress, exactly, but he hushed her, fingers repeating the same path, until both hands feathered over her throat, tracing the line of her jaw, then down again, brushing the upper curves of her breasts.
Her nipples so hard they ached, she arched a little, willing him to go farther, to dip those elegant hands inside her dress and fondle her there. With a soft whisper of a laugh, he took his touch away altogether and, turning off the privacy light, sat across from her.
“What have you decided to order?”
Gathering her wildly scattered thoughts, she frowned at the menu, almost unable to make sense of it. “I have no idea now.”
“Good.”
“Why did you stop?”
He made a tsking noise. “Several reasons. First, because we haven’t agreed upon the rules yet. Second, because you attempted to direct me, which will be against the rules. And third—”
The waiter entered, interrupting him and tempting her to stomp on his foot with her high heel. She ended up ordering the en croute, as it was the only menu item she could retrieve from her churning brain. When the waiter left, having delivered a dish of caviar and poured her more champagne, she prompted Alec, “Third?”
He simply reached for the caviar and handed her a cracker dressed with crème fraîche and glistening with the black eggs. Then sampled his own.
“Delicious, don’t you think?” he inquired, all politeness, but with a hint of a dare beneath. Apparently asking him what he’d been about to say counted as directing him. Fine then.
“Yes.” She savored it, then used her ring finger to dab some crème from the corner of her mouth, licking it slowly while holding his gaze, eyes as innocently wide as she could make them. Two could play this game.
He laughed under his breath and shook his head slightly. “Is it any wonder I couldn’t stay away? Third, because I enjoy leaving you hanging. Something you should be aware of before we engage more fully.”
“Seems to me that’s a double-edged sword—doesn’t it mean denying yourself, also?”
“Oh yes.” He murmured the words, eyes dark on her over the rim of his flute. The King of Dreams, with his shadowed gaze.
“‘Why this is hell, nor am I out of it,’” she quoted him.
“More true than you know.”
“Then tell me. Why Faustus?”
“How about we discuss my proposed rules instead? Then we can proceed with a better shared understanding.”
“Do I get veto power?”
“Absolutely. As do I. Until we’ve sealed negotiations. Then your only veto will be a safeword.”
“Lolita,” she offered promptly.
He choked on his champagne. “I beg your pardon?”
Got him with that one. “My safeword. I thought it would have the appropriate chilling effect.”
“Already she knows how to devastate me with a single word.”
“You’re not so difficult to figure out. But it can be something else. I just wanted to tease you a little.”
“And so you have. Lolita it is, to my everlasting chagrin. But, be aware, Ms. Dolors, that soon you will hand me the power to tease you within an inch of your life. Something to consider as you bait me, which you seem to so enjoy.”
“Duly considered.” Perverse of her, too, that the warning enticed her to bait him more. But she restrained herself.
“And your other safeword?”
“I need two?”
“I prefer it. You can have Lolita for a full stop, but I’d like you to choose another for slowing down, negotiating and reconfiguring. Something with a less chilling effect, if you please.”
She considered as the waiter delivered their meals, bringing a chilled chardonnay to accompany the seafood they’d both chosen. Alec raised an eyebrow at her expectantly.
“Morpheus.”
He paused, searching his memory. “The Greek god of dreams?”
“I was thinking more of Neil Gaiman’s character in Sandman, but yes.” When he continued to look puzzled, she rolled her eyes. “Oh come on. Famous Brit writer? Graphic novels. With your penchant for damnation, I’d think you’d be familiar.”
“No. But it’s a decent enough safeword, as it’s unlikely to be uttered otherwise. All right. Here’s what I propose. You inquired about secrecy. On Monday I shall see to it that you’re transferred to Lily’s team and out of my direct supervision. Nonnegotiable,” he said, when she opened her mouth to interrupt. “I shall do it regardless, as I consider myself already compromised.”
“And here I thought I was the one to be compromised.”
“Funny girl. As Lily has already badgered me to have you on her team, I believe I can navigate that as a favor to her and without besmirching your reputation.”
“I like the
sound of besmirching.”
“Hush. You, however, may decide upon the relative secrecy. I can go to the partners and obtain permission for our affair, which means everyone in the office would be aware of our business.”
“Hopefully not the sordid details.”
“One would hope.”
“I don’t really like the idea of everybody knowing.” Worse, all the gossip, questions and eyebrow-waggling that would ensue.
“Nor do I. My preference is to keep this discreetly quiet. This makes sense to me as...” He covered not finishing the thought by sipping his wine.
“As?”
He sighed, quirked a brow at her. “Let’s be honest. Once your curiosity is satisfied, you’ll likely want to have done with me.” He held up a hand. “Which I understand and am prepared to face. You have your entire life ahead of you.”
“You hardly have one foot in the grave, Alec.” All that lovely arousal and desire fizzled like champagne gone flat. First Kiki, now him. She didn’t want to think about how this would end when they were poised on the brink of such an amazing beginning.
“Yes, well, believe me when I say that endings come along whether you plan for them or not. If what is between us burns as hot and fast as it promises, we’ll be calling it a lovely fling and go on with our lives. My argument is that it’s better in that case that no one have known of it, outside a circle of trusted friends, naturally.”
“I can go along with the discretion plan, but I want to log a protest.” She waited until he met her eyes, his expression that cool blankness that maybe meant he hid how he felt rather than that he didn’t feel at all. “This isn’t about curiosity for me. Not entirely,” she amended. “It’s mainly about you. I have a serious thing for you.”
He smiled faintly, even indulgently. And bypassed the declaration entirely. “Discretion it shall be then. We shall neither arrive at nor leave the offices together, unless in the company of others. To keep our focus on the work, we shall see each other only on weekends.”
“No sex on school nights?”
He let that one pass. “All interactions between us in the workplace shall be professional and nonsexual.”
“Can I still enjoy the subtext?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
She grinned at his pompous tone and finished off the last of the delicious fish. “I kind of get off on it when you boss me around. But then, I think you knew that.”
“There shall be plenty of that—outside the workplace.”
“Pity. I’d kind of had this fantasy worked up involving your desk.”
“I believe I shall sorely make you regret baiting me this way. Will it please you to know I have a home office also? There’s a certain scene we could reenact—to both of our satisfaction.”
She almost couldn’t catch her breath. He watched her, taking in her reaction, eyes glittering with his own spiking desire.
“That would be acceptable,” she managed in a reasonably cool tone. And gulped her ice water as he laughed softly.
“I give you permission to enjoy the subtext then, but not to bait me at the office. That will result in punishment.”
“What if I bait you outside the office?”
“What do you think?”
“Gotcha.”
“Otherwise, the rules are simple. You do exactly what I tell you to. I decide what will occur and what the punishments for infractions shall be. I make all the rules and they can be as arbitrary as I like. If you object to anything at all, you can say ‘Lolita’ to call a full stop, at which we’ll drop all role-playing. Saying ‘Morpheus’ will allow us to negotiate and modify the scene, while still enjoying the power exchange.”
“Sounds good.” In point of fact, it sounded amazing. She might be able to orgasm just from him talking about it.
“No questions? You don’t need to think about it?”
She met his gaze levelly. “Alec. I’ve done nothing but think about this since I met you—and quite a bit before that. Sign me up.”
“You’re sure?”
“It’s starting to sound like you aren’t. I know I pushed you into this. Do you want to back out?”
He hesitated fractionally and for a panicked moment, she thought he might. Then he blew out a long breath. “I’m here because I can’t bear the thought of it.”
“I’m really glad. More than I can say.”
The waiter came in, cleared their plates and set a silver tray bearing cannoli on the table. He left and she gave the dessert a significant look. “Really?”
“It seemed appropriate, given that I couldn’t properly savor what you inspired on the occasion of our other meal. Go set the privacy button and come here.”
Arousal zooming, thighs watery with excitement, she walked the short distance to the door and set the privacy lock. Alec had moved his chair back from the table and she went to him, breathless with the anticipation.
“That’s a beautiful dress,” he told her, “but I aim to see you out of it. Turn around.”
She obeyed, heart leaping like a wild animal against her ribs, head swimming as he slowly drew the zipper down. The pads of his fingers brushed up her spine, teasing, electrifying her flesh, and eased the cap sleeves off her shoulders, encouraging the dress to slither to her feet.
“Step out of it and lay the gown on your chair.”
Acutely aware of his gaze on her near-naked self—and desperately pleased she’d sprung for the fancy lace underwear—she did as he said.
“Hands under your hair, behind your neck. Lift it and turn for me. Let me see you.”
Slowly pivoting, she reveled in the charged eroticism of it. His casual command. Exposing herself to his avid gaze as unknowing restaurant staff and diners went about their business outside. Even more mind-blowing than she’d fantasized.
“So very lovely. Come to me. Wrists crossed at the small of your back.”
A whisper of silk as he drew off his tie and wound it around her hands, binding them tightly there. An unnamable emotion rose in her chest, something like a sob of grief but pounding with sexual desire so intense she thought she might shatter with it.
“Sit on my lap.” His voice had gone dark and gravelly. He eased her onto his thigh, hand hot on her waist, and lifted her chin. His dark eyes, always intense, looked nearly black in the candlelight, his face showing new lines of stern arousal that would have undone her even without the rest. “A kiss,” he whispered, “to seal our agreement.”
Saturating herself in the experience, she relished Alec’s obvious desire as much as her own. It felt so perfect, to yield this way, to be half-naked on his lap, held in his grip as his mouth lowered to hers. To know he’d control the kiss and at the same time craved the taste of her. Trying to be gentle, he brushed her lips with his, but his hand tightened on her hip, fingers digging in, and he made a sound she would have called despair in another circumstance, from another person.
Heady with the moment, with him and the way his mouth sank into hers, she returned the kiss, leaning into him with a sense that she might die if he stopped. His hand on her chin shook and he transferred it to the back of her neck, winding it into the fall of her hair and twisting, pulling her head back so he kissed her more deeply. He tasted of wine and desire, kissing her so hard, the attraction they’d both banked until now meeting and opening like their mouths, feeding on each other and fusing in a nuclear reaction, slamming them into each other and into a blaze of need.
Finally he wrenched his mouth from hers, mainly by the hand fisted in her hair, holding her still as he pulled back a few inches and, breathing hard, stared into her eyes. Without speaking, he reached for the cannoli and held it to her mouth, the command implicit. Feeling deliciously sensual and naughty, she parted her lips and wrapped them around it, well aware of the sexual imagery and the way his
eyes fired as he watched her mouth. She soaked in the way he experienced her, as she sank her teeth into the crisp, flaking pastry, then into the sweet cream.
Unable to use her hands, she couldn’t prevent the shower of golden crumbs onto her bosom, the smear of cream around her lips. Seeming mesmerized, he set the cannoli aside and, tugging her hair so she arched her back, lifted her lace-encased breasts to his avid mouth as he slowly licked the crumbs from her skin.
Chapter Thirteen
He let the moment wash his brain clear of everything except her. The white curves of her high breasts rising and falling with her charged breathing. Her delicately pink mouth open, the lipstick delightfully smudged, dabbed with smeared cream. How she arched her swanlike throat to the pull of his hand in her spun-silk hair. Her hot little cunt grinding against his thigh.
A few shimmering flakes still gleamed in the cleft between her breasts and he touched his tongue to them, imagining that her skin tasted sweeter beneath. Seduced by her texture, by the plunging of her heart beneath his lips, he kissed his way up, dragging his tongue along her center line, up to the hollow at the base of her throat. She breathed hoarsely, blue eyes staring blindly at the ceiling, totally pliant but also fighting to stay still. If he slid a finger between her legs right then, she’d probably come immediately.
Not yet. He wanted this as mind-blowing for her as for himself.
Hell, it turned out, had a great deal in common with heaven.
Or perhaps he’d lost track of his moral code entirely, spinning away in the delirium of holding the luscious Amber in his arms, hands bound and deliciously yielding. Watching her move—so graceful and lovely, with those golden curls tumbling down her back to brush the tops of the scandalously sexy black lace knickers—had pushed him nearly to the edge. Touching her skin, so creamy white, nearly steaming with the heat she radiated, had sent him past it, into some realm where he no longer recognized that right or wrong even existed. Those considerations shattered in the sheer erotic gestalt of not just finally having her, but of having her willingly give herself in to his power.
Under His Touch Page 11
