by Ella Brooke
Natalie’s face pinked and she lifted her chin defiantly.
"So what if I did?" she retorted finally. "It's not like you don't have a spare hanging right next to it."
Of course Patrick Adair wouldn't be embarrassed by something like that. He only chuckled, and she wondered if his eyes warmed a little, the stunning blue nearly violet in the dim light.
"Well, that would be one hell of a sight, me in that robe. Honestly, though, I think I prefer you in my robe, just like this."
"Like this?" Natalie asked in confusion. "It's just a robe. I mean, it’s a nice one..."
She glanced down to confirm that she hadn't missed something. As far as she could tell, she was just a small woman in a robe that was far too big for her. The sides were wrapped almost double around her body, and the belt was cinched tight to keep it from falling off of her or her from falling out of it.
Natalie looked back up and made a slight noise of surprise because Patrick was much closer than he had been before, and there was something charged in the air between them. Suddenly her breath caught in her chest and she couldn't help but take a step back, even knowing that the only thing behind her was the window. There was nowhere to go, and there was a part of her that liked that just fine.
"I think you are underestimating what a man sees when he sees a woman in his own clothes," Patrick said softly, and the burr in his voice made her shiver. Natalie wrapped her arms around herself and watched him, oddly helpless.
"Am I?" she asked between dry lips.
"Oh, yes. You see, when a man sees a beautiful woman in his clothes, his brain immediately leaps to a time when they made love. When she was stripped out of her own garments and then wrapped up in his. He thinks of what it was like to wrap up all of that fair skin in cloth, and then he thinks about what a beautiful thing it would be to strip her free of it again."
She swallowed hard because now he was very close. It felt as if all the air had gone out of the room, and she couldn't take her eyes off of his.
"It's one thing for that woman to wear her own clothing, however lovely or enticing that might be. That's a pleasure in its own right, and not one I'll be turning away from the door, certainly. However..."
Natalie pulled her breath in when he reached a hand towards her. She was disappointed in an elemental way when he dragged his finger down the lapel of the robe instead of touching her flesh. Then his finger hooked into the thick fabric, tugging it away from her body and away from the confines of the belt that kept it in place.
"I suppose, if I were to wax poetical about it, there is something primal about seeing you in my robe," he said, his voice soft and low. "It makes me think of ownership and possession. After all, in an old Scottish ballad, a woman covers her lover with her own cloak to save him from hell."
"That's some impressive cloak," Natalie said, blushing when her voice came out as a squeak.
"I was thinking more of the time when they came home to her hall. How that cloak would come off and reveal all that was hers."
Natalie knew that she had a choice. Right now, she could draw the edge of the robe around her more tightly and step away. She would sternly tell him that this was not appropriate in the lease, and that she would certainly not put up with this sort of behavior from a man who as supposed to be her employer.
That's what she should have done, and any minute now, she was going to do it. Wasn't she?
Instead, she seemed to be as bewitched as a little bird with a snake, staring at him as his hands drifted down to the belt at her waist. He never took his eyes from her, and it occurred to her that she could drown in their blueness.
"You are such a beautiful prize, pet," he said softly. "You don't even know how lovely you are."
He pulled the belt from her hips, and gently, tugged her arms so that they hung by her sides. His robe was ludicrously large on her, and now it was parted straight down the center, revealing the curve of her breasts, the roundness of her belly and the secret juncture below.
"That's beautiful," he whispered softly. "Like a sacrifice come to the grove."
"I don't think I want to be a sacrifice," Natalie objected, but then he slid the flat of his palm down her sternum, over her belly, and she shivered, leaning in.
"Though I guess that that would depend on what I was being sacrificed to," she amended, and she was rewarded with a soft laugh.
He slid the robe off of her shoulders, and it was heavy enough that it fell in a pool around her feet. Now she was completely bare with her back to a window that faced all of Dublin, and in front of her.
Patrick watched her with a hunger that made her think of waiting wolves, of predators that lurked in the night. They had killed off the last wolf in Ireland more than a hundred years ago, but now she wondered if they had bothered to look in the towns, at men who carried that wild spirit within them.
"Pet, you must tell me ‘no’ now if you wish this to go no farther," he said, his voice velvety deep. "The sight of you is... well, if we go much farther, I am not sure if you'll be able to stop me."
She swallowed hard, nodding.
"I don't want you to stop," she whispered achingly. "Not... not now."
She thought that he moved fast before, but that was nothing compared to how fast he was now. He had her in his arms, lifted up and crushing his lips against hers. She thought she knew passion when they kissed before, but this was something exceptional, something that seemed to grab her low in the belly. It opened a well of heat deep inside her, and she couldn't stop herself from crying out.
Without any effort at all he scooped her up in his arms, one hand centered firmly on her rear, the other wrapped around her. He carried her to his desk, and with a gentle care, spilled her over the leather-covered top of it.
It occurred to Natalie that there was a bedroom with a perfectly serviceable bed just a few steps farther, but then he was leaning over, kissing her again with that wildness that grabbed her by the throat, and she stopped caring about anything else.
"I have wanted to do this to you since the moment I met you," he growled. "God, but the things I want to do to you should be illegal."
Natalie felt a breathless laughter bubble up inside her.
"Oh, really?" she teased. "Come on, what have you got, Adair? I bet your idea of wild involves doing it on the floor on alternate Tuesdays."
He pressed a deep kiss against the side of her throat, and she could feel his teeth nipping firmly before he soothed it with a lick. His laugh was almost a growl and she could feel it vibrate throughout her body.
"Oh, be careful what you say to me, pet," he said. "You are going to pay for everything that passes those pretty lips of yours."
She might have made another smart retort, but then he was reaching down to palm her breasts, squeezing them gently before using his sensitive fingertips to shape her dark nipples. In a matter of moments, they were aching for more, and he propped himself up on one hand to examine his work.
"That's beautiful," he said, and Natalie blushed. He saw the color across her cheeks and chuckled. "And what's the matter, pet? Certainly a man who only screws on the floor on alternate Tuesdays isn't going to make such a worldly girl blush like that."
"People... men... don't usually look as long as that," she muttered, and he laughed again.
"Then men are idiots," he said, standing back. There was space between them now, enough for the cooler air to send goosebumps over her skin, to make her shiver a little. When she tried to cover her body with her hands, however, Patrick pinned them in place with a casual strength that made her whimper.
She felt bare and exposed, almost desperate. Then Patrick pressed against her, and the warmth helped. She could feel the hard column of his manhood pressed against her leg, and the heat that came across her then had nothing to do with embarrassment.
"Men should certainly look when they can at a girl so beautiful. Your breasts are soft and sweet, and your skin as pale as new silk. Your body calls for a man's hands, and when you
flush with your own pleasure, it takes on the most delicate tint of rose."
"So I should be in a museum or something?" Natalie retorted, trying her best to keep up. It was difficult, however, when his hand stroked down her thighs and then up again to cup her full and straining breasts. She had never thought her breasts were all that sensitive before, but now she could feel the very electricity from the tips of his fingers, feel the way her flesh seemed to strain for him.
"Hmm, very good question. A part of me wants to lock you all away and keep you for myself, mine to touch and hold and to enjoy far from the eyes of the world."
Her knees were bent, her legs dangling off of the edge of the desk, and now he came to stand between them. The rough fabric of his trousers rubbed against the delicate skin, and she couldn't help squeezing a little.
"Oh yes, because I would want all this to be mine and mine alone. I'm a greedy man, Natalie, as you yourself have noted before. I do not share what is mine. Ever. However..."
His hand closed over the soft mound between her legs, and she groaned. It felt simultaneously too intimate and not far enough. Her hips bucked up wildly against his hand, and he chuckled.
"But you know by now that I like showing off what I have, and that would be the rub, wouldn't it?"
He suited action to words and ground the base of his palm against her. His motion opened her nether lips slightly, and now they could both smell the warm perfume of her body, the musk of a woman aroused rising up from her. In another world, in another life, she would have been embarrassed, but now, all she could do was react to Patrick's masterful touch.
"Oh, perhaps there's a part of me that wants the world to see," he purred. "Perhaps I want them all to see how hungry you are for me, how lovely you are."
He was still talking, but Natalie's ability to understand what he was saying was dropping by second. He slid his fingers along her moistening slit, just parting them gently at first before venturing a slow drag across her clit. Making a slight hum of approval, he dipped his fingers into the opening below and dragged some of her honeyed sweetness up to wet that small knot of flesh, making her groan with need.
"That's a beautiful girl," he whispered. "That's gorgeous..."
She thought he would enter her now. She was squirming on his fingers, certainly wet enough, but he continued, utterly remorseless, utterly focused on the pleasure he was giving her. She flailed, grabbing on to him as he pleasured her. He was the only stable thing, the only steady thing in a universe that was thrown into chaos by the sensations he was giving her.
Natalie could feel her muscles quivering, knew what was coming next, and somehow, she managed to open her eyes to look at him pleadingly.
"I want..."
"Oh, I know what you want," he murmured, and she could see now that she was looking beads of sweat on his brow and a wild look in his blue eyes. "Trust me, darling, I want to give it to you."
"I want you," she said insistently, and he paused for a moment.
She mewled a little in protest, but that was good too because it let her muscles relax slightly under the onslaught of sensations he had given her.
"I want you," she murmured, unable to be more clear in her fever. "I don't want... I want it to be with you."
For a moment, it looked as if Patrick didn't know what she meant, and then his eyes widened. For a moment he stood stock still, and then he grinned, a sharp and wolfish thing.
"Oh, you beauty," he crooned, and he reached for his trousers.
In a moment, they were open enough for him to pull his manhood out, and she propped herself up on one elbow to see it. With a trembling hand, Natalie reached out to touch, and she whimpered a little when the silk and steel rod jerked against her fingers. He was so warm against her, and she knew that he would feel like heaven.
Suddenly, Natalie found herself pinned against the desk again, and she yelped as she was dragged to the very edge of it. Patrick stood between her legs, and there was something dark and wild in his eyes.
"God, I cannot resist you," he said, his voice low and ragged and then he was pressing inside her. For a moment, she felt the smooth blunt tip of his manhood against her opening, and then with a single lunge, he was pressed inside her to the hilt.
Natalie couldn't help herself. She cried out at the sensation of fullness, of how much he stretched her. There was a thin thread of pain through the pleasure, but it was negligible; far less important than how he was finally inside her, how close their bodies had become.
"Natalie?"
She looked up into his concerned face, and she was startled by the gentleness of his touch when he cupped her cheek with one hand.
"Is it too much?" he asked, and his voice sounded like ragged hell. "Do we need to stop?"
"No," she whispered, “Please, don't stop..."
When she thought he might still doubt her, she wrapped her trembling legs around his waist and dragged him close. Her motion pushed him inside her even more deeply, and they both cried out.
"I can never resist you," he muttered, and then he pulled partially out before surging back in.
He set a pace that was just short of punishing, and she could feel how very strong he was as he pushed into her. Every thrust set a wave of pleasure through her body, and she rose up to meet him as best she could.
The heat that coiled between them was now centered low in her belly, and it radiated out to suffuse every area in her body. She was shaking and crying out and clinging to him hard, and it felt like every moment was bringing her closer to something inevitable. She fought for that peak, tensing herself and clinging to him, and then just as she was starting to feel a deep soreness through her legs, she fell right over the edge.
Her pleasure caught her by surprise, making her cry out wildly. She could feel Patrick pause, but she couldn't let him move away. Instead she pulled him even closer with her legs, shaking her way to a climax that felt as if it had dug hot claws into her and was pulling her apart.
She didn't know she was crying out until her throat was sore, her entire body threaded with exhaustion and need. She felt as if she might float away if it wasn't for Patrick's body over hers.
Just as she was coming down from her own plateau, Patrick's motions became more urgent, less measured. With one final thrust, he spilled inside her, growling as he did so. She shivered with sympathetic pleasure, and then when he collapsed on top of her, she wrapped her arms around him.
The Patrick that rested his weight over her after they had made love felt different, gentler and almost softer than the one she had met in that dingy little courtyard, or even the one who had ordered her into the rain to get his coffee.
There was something stirring in her that had nothing to do with pleasure, or at least not the pleasure of the body, and she stepped on it firmly.
He's still my boss, she reminded herself, and she knew that whatever was going on right now, it would never last. However, she was still going to enjoy it as long as she could. After all, wasn't that what coming to Ireland was all about? Getting in lots of experiences no matter how fleeting they were?
"So, what's the usual drill around here?" she asked, keeping her voice light. "Do I shower and sneak out the back?"
Patrick roused up from her body, propping himself up on one elbow.
"The hell are you on about, woman?" he growled. "Do you think I think you're a streetwalker or something?"
She shrugged, slightly defensive but also slightly relieved in a way that she didn't want to think about.
"You're the one that has the swinging bachelor's apartment at the back of the office," she said. "Don't blame me when I draw my own conclusions."
"You're not leaving," he said, and there was an intensity to his voice that made her wonder. "I still have plenty of plans for you before the storm is over, and none of them involve you leaving any time soon."
She shivered and decided that she would let tomorrow worry about tomorrow. Right now, Patrick Adair was kissing her again, and she had no
intention of letting anything else get in the way of that.
***
He had exhausted her sometime around two in the morning. At least, it was around two when her kisses had turned drowsy, then slower, then ceased entirely. The small bedroom attached to his office was sunken into silence. They made it to bed at last, and when Patrick realized that Natalie had fallen asleep, he sighed and tugged her closer.
She fit under his arm as if she were molded for it, and just looking at her in the light from above made him smile.
God, she is a beauty.
Patrick wasn't a man who thought much about sex, no matter what the little American might have assumed. He liked it and went after it when he wanted it, but he had never been one of the men who chased it to distraction. Patrick had known plenty of men like that, and he had seen the destruction and ruin that they had brought down on themselves as well.
He never before understood how easy it was for a man to ruin himself over a woman — at least, he hadn't until now.
Natalie Rook was a woman that he could not overlook. If she was in a room, his eyes went to her immediately. When she spoke, a shiver of recognition ran up his spine, and when she touched him, she left fire in her wake.
God forbid she ever learn her power over men, over him. Patrick shuddered. With that curve to her lips and that glint in her blacker-than-night eyes, she was disaster and ruin rolled up into one.
And he couldn't get enough of her.
Absently, Patrick kissed her brow gently, and she smiled in her sleep. There was something that drew them together, and he knew it. They called to one another. The old ones might have called it fate or destiny. The church would have called it a sin.
