I could do that.
I didn’t want to do it.
But I could do it.
“But you’re hungry now, right?” He lifted one eyebrow and smirked again. It seemed as though most of what he said included some sort of inside joke I was not privy to.
“I am, but—”
“Then now is when we shall eat.”
Confusion over my assumed idea that he had a woman coming over tonight clouded my brain. Perhaps I was wrong about that. Either that or he was feeding me her food and she was going to go very hungry later. Because he sure didn’t have another meal planned for the near future out of that fridge.
Nothing managed to explain the other items I picked up along the way, however.
As though Mr. Alexander read my mind, he dumped the prawns into the oil in his now-heated pan and turned to the kitchen table. A moment later he returned with the roses. He set them on the island, removed the packaging, and then arranged them all in a vase he pulled from below the counter. He turned to add water, giving me another excellent view of his ass and the wide expanse of his back, which flexed and pulled with every movement, until my mouth went dry and I had to look away to avoid drying my eyes out.
Mr. Alexander set the vase on the table and removed other items from the bags. He made a pile of them on the end of the table. The small long box from the jeweler, the larger square box from the lingerie store, and the medium-sized black wrapped box from the fetish shop. That last one made me shiver and look away.
I had for sure slipped into another dimension.
“You’re nervous,” he noted when he returned to flip the prawns. The entire kitchen smelled heavenly.
“Uh, yeah.”
“And pissed.”
I didn’t comment.
“Good. I’d be worried if you weren’t nervous and pissed.”
He knew I was nervous and pissed, had made me that way on purpose, and he was pleased? All I had were more questions. No answers. I picked up the glass of wine and took another drink. Not a sip. A drink.
My crazy-as-hell boss didn’t speak again while he finished cooking. He topped off my wineglass with another of his famous smirks at one point, and he flipped prawns, checked potatoes, and grabbed the bag of steamed green beans from the microwave to rest on the counter.
I couldn’t grasp a single thought. Nothing in my brain worked. So I watched. Apparently that was what he wanted anyway. So I did it.
When all three parts of the meal were ready, Mr. Alexander filled two plates and set them on the table. He returned to the island to grab our glasses and carried them over. And then he returned for me. If he hadn’t, there was a good chance I would have simply continued to stare at him in confusion.
The next thing I knew, I was whisked into the air and stood on my feet. He had a way of collecting me with his hands at my waist and manhandling me into whatever position he wanted. Now was no exception.
Taking my arm, he led me to the table, pulled out a chair, and pressed gently on my shoulders to encourage me to sit. He scooted the seat in and dropped a cloth napkin in my lap. “Eat,” he commanded as he took his own seat on the adjacent side of the table.
Damn him and his demands. And damn this meal for smelling so good that I couldn’t deny him the satisfaction of eating his food. I was starving, and it looked like a meal I would have ordered at the finest five-star restaurant in town.
If only I could get my fingers to work properly and my throat to swallow.
Mr. Alexander took a bite. “Mmm. That’s good. You should try it.” He smiled at me again.
I swear my panties dampened. I had been fighting my physical reaction to him since I’d arrived, but sitting this close to him, having consumed most of a glass of wine on an empty stomach, there was no way to avoid his allure. It was magnetic. I wondered if all women felt it or just me.
When my boss of two weeks twisted in my direction, speared a prawn off my plate with his fork and held it up to my lips, I almost melted. I opened my mouth and let the delicate meat slide inside. And then I moaned. It was as good as it smelled and looked. The spices were perfect. The buttery flavor around the outside made my mouth water for more.
Mr. Alexander turned my fork and held it out for me to take. “There. Now, eat.”
I did as he said, tasting the potatoes next, knowing they would be heavenly, which they were. And then a green bean, steamed to perfection and seasoned just as well. Before I knew it, I’d enjoyed every morsel on my plate and was reaching for my wine again.
Mr. Alexander had finished already. He sat back now, leaning against the back of his chair, watching me, his wineglass in one hand, his other hand resting on the edge of the table. “You enjoy your food,” he commented.
I nodded. “Thank you. You’re a fantastic cook.”
“Thank you, Amelia. I’m glad you finally relaxed enough to eat it.”
Every time he called me Amelia, warmth crept up my body. Nobody called me Amelia. But I had neglected informing Mr. Alexander of this, essentially because he was my boss and who cared what he called me?
He leaned forward and topped off our wine again. There was very little left in the bottle, which meant I had too much. Not that I was drunk. I was perfectly fine after a full meal and what amounted to two glasses of wine. But my cheeks were warm, and I was still supposed to be angry with this asshole for sending me all over Atlanta doing his dirty work. A job he should have done for his own woman, not sent the girl from the first floor scurrying around to accomplish.
I sat up straighter and tried to school my face. I need to get out of here, I thought for the millionth time. What the hell was I still doing in my boss’s house?
“You’re still pissed.” He grinned that half grin again.
I started to speak and decided against it. Honesty was usually my best policy, but it seemed prudent to leave that one alone, especially in the face of the fact that I was both pissed and horny at the same time.
My boss leaned forward and turned to face me better. “What do you know about me, Amelia?”
My eyes widened. “Uh. What do you mean?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard rumors. Tell me about them.”
I shook my head. I wasn’t one to stand around listening to gossip in general. Specific gossip about the owner of the company never. Besides, I had been living in my own dream world for the past two weeks, preferring to continue to think Mr. Alexander was the sexiest, kindest, most wonderful man alive rather than listen to the giggles of the other women in the office.
His looks and quiet efficiency, which was all I really knew about him until Friday night, had fueled two weeks’ worth of fantastic dreams. Didn’t matter a bit if everything I’d daydreamed about was untrue. That was the beauty of dreams.
He lifted a brow. “Nothing?”
“I’m not into gossip, sir.” I wiped my mouth on my napkin to ensure I didn’t have any lingering food on my face and set it on the table next to my plate.
He stared at me. “For some reason, I believe you.” And then he tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling.
I waited patiently for him to ponder the paint job.
His head dipped back down just as fast. “Do you know what a Dom is, Amelia?”
“A Dom?”
“Yes.”
I gripped my thighs with both hands in my lap, seriously contemplating picking up the bottle of wine and guzzling the rest of it. I held his gaze. Or rather, he held mine.
I swallowed.
He waited.
“You mean like BDSM, sir?” I wished I could have sucked that question back into my mouth before it was all out there.
“Yes.”
Shit.
He stood then, pulled my chair out, and took my arm to help me stand also. It was nearly impossible, seeing as my head swam with questions.
My boss led me to the giant leather couch several yards from the table. The room was an open plan, although I hadn’t taken any time to peruse the furnishings
of the living space. Moments later, I sat on the sofa with my back rigid, my legs together, and my feet planted on the ground. I wished I had the rest of that glass of wine.
Mr. Alexander sat next to me. He sat sideways, however, one leg bent at the knee so he faced me. He took my hand and held it in both of his. He stared at it for a long time with his head dipped down to examine every aspect of the back of my hand as though it were fascinating.
His touch was like an electric shock. After what he’d said to me, which made not one bit of sense in my dense mind yet, he still managed to make me crave things I’d never had the urge to pursue before.
I wished I hadn’t chosen that particular white blouse that morning. And the full peach skirt seemed far too short. In fact, the way I’d plopped down on the couch had left half my ass touching the cool leather. And there was no way in hell I was going to fix it now.
Finally he squeezed my hand and lifted his gaze. “You don’t know the first thing about D/s do you, Amelia?”
I shook my head. That was the truth. I’d heard of it. Who hadn’t? I’d read novels occasionally in my spare time. Again, who hadn’t? They were titillating. But real life? Was the man who was my boss and the owner of a Fortune 500 company trying to tell me he was a Dom? And why would I need to know this?
He exhaled slowly, and then he released my hand and stood. He paced the room. I watched him, wishing I could fall through a crack in the Earth and come out on the other side. I did get a better view of this space, though. Clearly he was a fan of white, gray, and black because the living room matched the kitchen in its decor. The leather sofa was white. The floor was tiled in the same gray as the kitchen, with an enormous, delicious plush white rug in the middle between the huge sectional and the wall of built-in cabinets. The wood was painted white, and there was a flat-screen television in the middle section with rows of DVDs and CDs surrounding it. Flanking both of those were shelves of books. A ton of books.
But I needed to concentrate on my boss right then, so I yanked my gaze back to find him staring at me, running his fingers through his hair, both hands.
I was in so much trouble.
Especially because he looked even hotter when he lowered his arms, leaving his hair a mess on top.
“Look, Amelia. I have to be honest here. I’m attracted to you.”
And there it was. I didn’t say a word. I seriously doubted I heard him correctly. He ignored my non-response and continued.
“I mean really attracted to you. I have been since the first time you walked by my office. My cock instantly got hard, as it has every time I’ve seen you since. And baby, my cock doesn’t get hard for just anybody. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve felt this kind of draw to a woman.”
Holy shit. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. I wanted to tell him to stop, but I couldn’t breathe. And besides, all kinds of unwanted things happened to my body. My belly plunged, a tight ball forming in the center that knotted a little more with each word he spoke. My sex soaked my panties, and no matter how hard I squeezed my legs together, I couldn’t ease what could only be described as need.
My sexy boss continued to speak, pacing again. “I thought I could control this thing. I thought I could ignore it. I tried paying no attention to you. I then tried paying attention to you. I had hoped when I approached you on Friday night I would find out you had bad manners or a chipped tooth, or an ugly laugh or something that would turn me off.”
I had trouble following his rant. I tried to keep up. I did. But holy fuck.
“I had to jack off twice Friday night, and still you wouldn’t get out of my bed,” he accused, as though I’d done something wrong. His bed? I had never been near this man’s bed. Not once. This was the first time I’d been in his house for heaven’s sake.
“So I had this plan.” He stopped pacing, nailing me with his gaze. “I was sure if I sent you all over Atlanta this morning to collect that pile of stuff, you’d either freak the fuck out and tell me to go to hell, or not even flinch and leave without a blink.”
“I considered it, sir,” I managed to mutter.
“Which one?”
I stared at him.
“Which one, Amelia? Telling me to go to hell or shrugging it off?”
“Hell, sir,” I whispered.
This freaking pleased him. I couldn’t believe it.
He smiled, and then his face straightened, and he turned to face the wall of bookshelves, giving me another view of his fine ass in the process.
I closed my eyes, trying to straighten out my head while at the same time ignoring his butt. When I opened them, the man was facing me again. And he was closer. “Amelia.”
“Yes, sir?”
He rolled his eyes. “Cade.”
I nodded. No way was I going to start calling him Cade.
“Unless you plan to stick a capital letter on the way you say Sir, call me Cade.”
I had no idea what he meant by that.
“You’re the greenest twenty-four-year-old woman alive. What rock did you climb out from under?”
I was sure that was an insult, so I said nothing.
“I’m sorry.” He cringed. “That was uncalled for.”
Huh. The man could apologize, and he felt remorse. Interesting.
“Who did you think all those packages were for?” he asked, pointing at the table.
“I have no idea, sir.” I let that last word slip out unbidden, beginning to feel the impact of my choice.
“I realize that. But you must have had an idea. What was it?”
I licked my dry lips to no avail. “Your girlfriend, sir?”
“Cade.”
“Cade.”
“Thank you. I don’t have a girlfriend, baby.” His voice was softer.
“Oh.”
He paused.
“What was the point of the wild goose chase then, Cade?”
God that smile. “To piss you off, baby.”
“You intentionally sent me running around the city all morning to make me mad at you?” I glanced at the boxes. “Is there even anything in those boxes?” I hated that I’d asked that question the second it came out of my mouth.
“Fuck, yes. There are things in them.”
“What things?” Again, what was the matter with me?
Cade cocked his head. “You aren’t ready to find out yet.”
“Oh.” I sat up straighter. Good answer. I didn’t ever want to know what was in those boxes. Did I? Suddenly the fine line blurred, and I wasn’t seeing as clearly.
“Suffice to say, they’re all yours. And I’ll give you each of them when I feel you’re ready to receive them.”
That was insane seeing as I intended to resign from this job first thing tomorrow morning and never see him again.
He must have read my thoughts once more because he approached me and sat on the coffee table this time. He didn’t touch me. But he was less than a foot away when he leaned his elbows on his knees and met my gaze. “Baby, you’re a submissive.”
I shook my head in denial. I would know if I were submissive.
“I know you don’t realize it yet, but you are. And that solidified knowledge is making me so fucking hot I can hardly contain myself.”
At that point, with his body so close to mine and his breath mingling with mine and his enormous expanse of fine chest stretching his shirt out in front of me…I didn’t want him to contain himself. For once I wanted to live on the edge. Be reckless. Who cared? I never had to see him again anyway. Forget two weeks’ notice. I’d resign this afternoon, just after giving this god of sex my virginity. I didn’t care about the repercussions. I just wanted him to touch me.
Surely he would understand why I never showed up for work again.
“Sir—”
He cut me off by leaping from the coffee table and hauling me to my feet.
I’d forgotten he asked me not to call him sir. It triggered something in him, a wild abandon. I had trouble staying on my feet as he dr
agged me to the center of the rug and left me standing there, facing him while he resumed sitting on the coffee table, this time on the other side, still less than a foot away, still facing me.
“I want you to do something for me. Don’t think about it. Just do it. Don’t hesitate.”
“Okay.” No idea why I consented to that.
“Take off your panties.”
I hesitated. There was no way to avoid it. His request was as foreign to me as if he’d asked me to bark like a dog or flap my arms like a bird.
“Amelia, look at me.”
I met his gaze.
“Take off your panties, baby.” His voice was deep, hoarse, rough, penetrating, commanding. It pulled me like a magnet.
The wetness factor went up ten notches. I found myself doing as he instructed, reaching under my skirt and carefully sliding the beige lacy panties down my thighs, past my knees, and over each foot.
I was shaking as I righted myself. And that’s not all I was doing. I was also dripping with arousal. Thank God I’d chosen the safer beige bra that morning, because otherwise there would be no way to conceal my nipples from his view. I wasn’t entirely sure I was succeeding anyway. And I wasn’t about to look.
Cade reached out a hand.
Instinctively I knew what he wanted, and I set my wet panties in his palm. My face flushed so hot I thought I would die. I couldn’t stop myself from doing as he wanted.
“Good girl.” He brought them to his face, mortifying me further.
I looked away as he inhaled my scent and then stuffed my panties in his jeans pocket. “Submissive, baby. That’s what I mean.”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, but I was beginning to catch on.
“Do you know how fucking sexy you are?”
I shook my head. Though obviously he thought I was the bomb.
“Amazing. Stunning. I’m going to take you places you’ve never known existed.”
The Rules Page 4
