“You look . . .” Rob did the all-over once-over before his gaping mouth pulled into a slimy smile.
“I know.” I patted his cheek before climbing inside. “Every male head that turned as I passed by just now confirmed that.”
I was playing a hunch that the game I’d played with him yesterday would work again. The back and forth of dominance and submission was an intricate task, and one I wasn’t used to playing. Most of my Targets I left at arm’s length, letting them revel in the chase before slowly letting them creep closer, but Rob Tucker was in a field all of his own. He was like no one else, and not in a good way.
“Point me at who was checking out something that doesn’t belong to them, and I’ll gladly teach them some respect,” he said, glaring into the hotel before sliding in beside me.
“You’re good at that,” I said in a dryer tone than I’d intended.
“Good at what? Besides everything.” Rob slid up beside me, positioning his body tightly against mine.
In this game of cat and mouse, I slid a few inches away from him. “Teaching people respect. You’ve really got that talent down.” If I wasn’t aware of what his backhand felt like, I might have coated my reply in heavy sarcasm.
Rob twisted in his seat and picked up checking me out right where he’d left off. His eyes lingered on my legs. “My god, you really are a fiend.”
“A fiend in a cocktail dress.” I turned so I was facing him before slowly folding my legs, one over the other.
Rob licked his lips when his gaze wandered a bit north of my thighs. “A fiend in the sexiest dress a man’s ever laid eyes on.”
“You said to wear something nice. Does this constitute as nice?” I ran my hands down the material plastered to me like a second skin.
“No, Fiona, that’s not nice. That’s not nice at all.” When Rob tried to slide closer, I moved until I was up against the car door. “That dress makes me think naughty things and makes me want to do those naughty things to you right here, right now.”
I arched an eyebrow. “So you’re saying my dress is naughty instead of nice?”
“Extremely.” He nodded as his fingers grazed the material (barely) covering my thighs.
“Are you going to spank me? Punish me or something?” I paused, my gaze penetrating him. “Oh wait . . .”
“If you don’t stop acting so defiant, I just might,” he said, not quite as a threat, but close.
Since he wasn’t snarling and his fists weren’t compacted yet, I pressed a bit further. “If you think this is defiant, you obviously don’t know what kind of woman you’re dealing with.” To prove my point, I moved to the bench seat across from him.
There were the veins popping to the surface on his neck. There was the steam about to billow from his ears. There were the fists slowly twitching into position. Two steps forward, time for one step back . . .
“But defiance is overrated when a woman meets a man like you,” I added with that part-coy and part-worshipful smile I knew he loved and hated. It looked like it was exactly what he needed to calm his boiling rage. Patting the seat beside me, I waited for him to crawl next to me.
Draping his arm around me, he pulled me close and held me tightly enough that I wouldn’t be able to get away again. “A girl like you isn’t defiant, Fiona. A girl like you is confused.”
“That’s why I’m lucky to have found a man like you.” The words that felt like a betrayal to me and every woman weren’t difficult to deliver because I knew I was almost there—the end. I could literally feel the smile I would wear as I walked away from Rob Tucker later, and that made everything I had to say and do that much easier to carry out.
He nodded, giving my arm a rough squeeze. “To show you the error of your ways.”
No, Rob. It’s cute that you think you’re the mecca of mankind and all, but I’m here to show you the error of your ways. “So where are you taking me tonight? I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing.”
“Who says I’m taking you anywhere? Maybe we’re going to stay inside this limo until I bend you over every flat surface in here.”
My skin should have crawled. That it didn’t and that I didn’t want to squirm away gave the final validation that I wasn’t going to let anything derail me. I was on auto-pilot until I walked into the closest bar and downed the cheapest shot in it.
“I’m ready when you are,” I said with a suggestive smile as I lowered my hand below his belt. “Actually, it feels like you’re ready right now. So where do you want me first?” I scanned the limo. No-show Contact aside, a limo was a bad location for a dozen different reasons.
“I admire your enthusiasm, but I stopped fucking girls in cars when I was eighteen.”
I gritted my teeth to keep from saying something I’d regret, but if he called me girl one more time, he was going to regret it. Actually . . . I hoped he did. Come on, Rob, call me girl again. I dare you.
“I’ve got somewhere else in mind for tonight,” he said.
“A five-star restaurant followed by a penthouse suite perhaps?”
He glanced out the window. “If I wanted to share you with everyone else’s wandering eyes, I wouldn’t have told you to dress up.” He waved at my dress . . . or lack thereof. “This is for me and my eyes. You dress up for me and me only.”
Leaning in, I made sure my chest was brushing his shoulder before whispering, “I also undress for you and you only.”
“Speaking of . . .” Rob looked out the window again before flashing a smile my way. “It’s about that time.”
“What time?”
“Undressing time.” Rob slid toward the door as the limo came to a stop, giving me an opportunity to peek out the window.
When I did, my mouth dropped open. I recognized the place, and not in a comforting at-least-I-know-where-I-am kind of way. I recognized it because that was where I’d started the Meet with the Client. The almost-mansion with shiny windows and immaculate grounds was the Tucker’s home. The place where he’d raised a family and his wife cooked dinners.
He’d brought me—the other woman—to his home for our first night together.
That was yet another first. Targets took their mistresses to hotels or their offices or maybe even second houses, but never had one brought me to his home. I didn’t need to read Rob’s mind to know which room or whose bed he planned to pull me into. Rob Tucker’s childhood must have been tumultuous for him to have grown into such a twisted man.
I realized Rob was watching me study the house. As far as he knew, I didn’t know where we were. I shouldn’t stare at it with a look of shock. I shouldn’t even be looking at it when he was close by and waiting for me to respond.
“Undressing time, huh?” I wiped the shock from my face and replaced it with mischievousness. “You first.”
“I can’t decide whether to kiss you or hit you when you order me around like that,” he said with narrowed eyes as the driver opened the door for us.
“There’s a third option, you know.” Sliding by him, I skimmed my fingers across his chest before exiting the limo first.
“Oh? What’s that third option?”
I heard his footsteps following me up the walkway. Glancing over my shoulder, I lifted an eyebrow. “Follow me, and I’ll show you.”
That was about all the convincing he took. He followed me up the rest of the walkway while I gaped at the house, hoping with everything inside of me that Mrs. Tucker was not home. Knowing what I knew of her husband, she may very well be inside washing the dishes from the dinner they’d just shared. She could be standing inside, waiting for my V, when he walked in with me and led me to their bedroom. The thought made me nauseated. Despite knowing Mrs. Tucker felt nothing for her husband—I’d guess she hadn’t for years—no woman deserved to watch her husband gallivant with another woman inside of her own home.
Swallowing back all of my what-ifs and reservations, I stepped up to the door. “Where are we?”
“My house. What do you think?” He shuff
led keys from his pocket and opened the door.
Other than you’re a snake? “Your house? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Fiona didn’t know anything about Rob’s personal life, but he’d given her enough to deduce that he probably had some sort of woman in his life. If I just went skipping inside of his house without the slightest reservation, he would have been alerted that something was off.
Rob swung the door open and walked through it, waiting for me to follow. Like the gentleman he wasn’t, he didn’t hold the door for me. “This is my home. Mine to do whatever I want in it, with whomever I want.”
“Okay,” I said tentatively, taking just as tentative of a step inside. “Should we be expecting any company tonight or is it fair to say our private events will be kept private?” Well, until the video’s shown in court at least.
“You don’t have to worry about another woman wandering in while you’re tits-up if that’s what you’re worried about. Tonight, you’re the only woman in my life.” Rob grabbed my hand and pulled me into the foyer. The house was very much like him—flashy and showy, yet still lackluster. “My wife’s out of town for the weekend.”
I broke to a stop—as any woman should have when they found out the man they’re “seeing” was married. “Your wife?”
He turned to face me, his expression the opposite of amused. “That’s right. My wife.” He waved at a family photo hanging on the wall across from us. “Now, since that’s out of the way, follow me.”
When he headed for the stairs, I planted my feet and crossed my arms. I had to go one more round of disbelief and anger. I couldn’t let my prior knowledge of Rob’s marital status and my eagerness to finish up raise flags of alarm. I didn’t want him to start asking himself why I was so eager to be with him after he’d put me in the hospital last week, and I didn’t want him to wonder why I’d brushed over the wife-bomb so quickly.
When he glanced back to find me glued to my spot, he gripped the handrail. “I could make you follow me, if you prefer.” His knuckles turned white as his grip tightened.
“You’re married,” I stated, crossing my arms tighter. Gauging from the look on his face and how his body looked close to trembling from anger, I knew I couldn’t push it much further.
“That’s right. For twenty years or something.” Turning his back on me, he continued up the stairs. “Now get up here and take your clothes off. I didn’t seek your company to reminisce about my past.”
He’d disappeared down the second floor hall by the time I sucked in a breath and took my first step up the staircase. I pulled my newest phone out of my purse and got it ready. I didn’t know anything about the layout of the Tuckers’ bedroom or how I’d be able to hide my phone; all I knew was that if I didn’t manage to get the evidence, I had nothing.
At the top of the stairs, I found Rob’s polo shirt dotting the carpet. Halfway down the hall were his pants. Right outside the door at the end of the hall, his briefs. I had just put the phone back into my purse when two strong arms grabbed me from behind. My purse, with the phone safely inside of it, fell to the ground. Rob’s arms wound through my elbows, cinching them back so far I cried out.
“Why are you still dressed?” he hissed against my neck before nipping at it.
Shit. We were getting started and my only tool for getting it on video was at my feet, and my hands were literally tied. Putting myself back into character, I draped my head back over his shoulder to give him better access to my neck. “Because I thought you’d want to watch me undress.”
“Wrong.” His fingers tugged on my dress’s zipper. “I’d rather undress you myself.”
The zipper was down and my dress gathered at my feet before he finished his sentence. Like most of my Targets, Rob was adept at getting a woman out of her clothes. Years of practice had more to do with that than any actual talent. His mouth stayed on my neck as his hands skimmed up and down my body. Pressing into me, he directed me toward the bed in the giant master bedroom.
Yet another family photo was propped up on a nightstand, but a family photo staring me in the face while I screwed a leper of a man was the least of my worries. My purse and phone were getting farther away with every step, and I didn’t need to wonder if Rob was the kind of lover who took his time with foreplay. Everything I’d endured, everything Mrs. Tucker had endured, would be for nothing if I didn’t find a way to force the last piece into the puzzle.
As Rob shoved me the rest of the way to the bed, I noticed something. More like, I noticed something missing. Most men got hard at the idea of getting me into bed, but Rob Tucker was inches from actually getting me into bed, and the only thing hard about him was the elbow pressed into my back. Whatever kind of twilight zone I’d found myself in with that Errand was one I hoped I could permanently forget one day.
“For someone who seemed rather eager a few minutes ago, you’re certainly giving me a different message now,” I said.
That earned me a rather intense bite as he rammed me into the baseboard. I grimaced but didn’t try to free my arms. The only thing I was more certain about than Rob’s hold being powerful was that it was unbreakable.
“Maybe if you stopped talking and starting obeying, you could turn me on again.”
When he bit the sensitive skin of my neck again, I groaned in pain. That was when I felt him hardening against me. Exerting power and dominance while doling out pain was what turned him on, what got him off. It was a sick and twisted game . . . but it was also my exit strategy. That scrap of knowledge was exactly what I needed.
If getting and staying “alert” required physical violence paired with my submission, then that was exactly what I wouldn’t do. I guessed if I met him toe-to-toe at the physical dominance line, he’d go as limp as he’d been moments ago. What I knew of Rob Tucker—what I hoped I knew of him—also led me to the conclusion that somewhere close by was a magic purple pill that would help him along if I didn’t play nice. He might play dirty, but I played dirtier still.
“Maybe if you’d shut your mouth and start obeying me, you could manage to turn me on . . . for once,” I snapped, elbowing his chest. I braced myself for the hit, so when it came, it didn’t totally throw me off balance. It still hurt like a mother.
But I wasn’t in a game of who hit harder or most. It was a game of don’t-back-down. Spinning in his arms, I worked one of my arms free and returned the cheek-slapping favor before shoving him away. He stood there rubbing his cheek, looking as though the world had just flipped upside down.
I smirked. “I know this game, too. When you’re ready for more, come and get it.” A quick check revealed I was correct that fighting back was the opposite of an aphrodisiac for him.
“I think you’re going to regret that,” he said with a powerful glower.
I felt half as brave as I knew I looked, but that was still twice as much as I thought I’d be. “I don’t think I am. It looks like you’re having a not-so-hard”—I peaked an eyebrow as my gaze swept south—“time keeping your enthusiasm in the on position, so I’m a little confused. Are you more interested in hitting me or screwing me?” Seriously, when the whole thing was done and over, I needed to have my brain wiped of all Tucker Errand-related memories.
“Who says I have to choose? Why pick one when two’s more fun?” he answered cryptically, with just as cryptic of a smile.
Lifting my shoulders, I stepped forward. “I do. I say you have to choose. You can pick one, but if you pick the wrong one, I’m walking out the front door and you’ll never see me again. Hit me once, shame on you. Hit me twice, shame on me.” If the president of the United States couldn’t even get that gem right, what made me think I could tackle it while bare-ass naked in front of just as bare-ass naked a man who, in another life, could have been Hitler?
“You and that mouth again. I thought we’d worked that out.” He stopped advancing, but I was ready for that to change at any moment.
“No, you thought you’d hit that out.”
He waved dismissi
vely. “Tomato, tomatoe.”
Resisting the urge to charge him with claws at the ready, I crossed my arms and leaned into the bed. “So? What’s the verdict? Are we or aren’t we? Because I might be attracted to you and all, but you’re not exactly the only guy who can meet my physical attraction needs.”
His face couldn’t have twisted any further with confusion. It was so overstated, it was comical. “I thought we had something more than physical attraction. I thought we’d been working toward something else. Something more.”
That was comical. His idea of “something more” was exerting physical and mental power over me while I played the willing victim.
“You’re married. And you like to get rough. I have a rather big problem with both of those things. The only kind of relationship we can have is this one.” I gestured to the bed. “You can fulfill that need for me and I can fulfill that need for you, but that’s as far as you and I go.” I crossed my arms again, hoping to look as unwavering as I sounded. “Take it or leave it.”
Rob had gone from utter and total confusion to looking like he’d been whacked over the head with a brick. I didn’t suppose his wife, or any of his previous lovers, had ever spoken back to him and given him the sex-only ultimatum. The perk to him having no experience with that was that he didn’t know how to respond. At least not right away.
“I could put you in the hospital again, you know. Just like that,” he threatened, snapping his fingers.
I shrugged. “I don’t doubt you could. But I’ve got my attorney on speed-dial, witnesses who could vouch for me being with you tonight, and I’m not scared of pressing charges. The first one was a freebie, the second one’s going to cost you.”
His eyes narrowed in a more investigative kind of way than the angry way. “You had me fooled.”
He has no idea. “No, Rob, you had yourself fooled.”
He took a minute to work that out, pondering whatever a creep like him pondered. Then his smiled curled up so high it was startling. “A physical relationship? That and that only?”
Nice try. “Not that kind of physical, and the other kind’s about to be off the table in three . . . two . . . and—”
Great Exploitations: Sin in San Fran Page 4
