by M. A. Ellis
“Hey!”
“Don’t even say it,” she warned. But she could tell from the glint in his eyes he had something he wanted to share and wouldn’t be denied.
She took a big bite, closed her eyes in culinary ecstasy. “What?” she asked around a mouthful of shell and gooey filling. The customers looked at her as if she were just a little bit odd and went to sit down to wait their turns.
“I figured it out, Wiley,” he said in a soft, conspiratorial tone. “New dude. Change of hair color. Perfectly reasonable for you to worry. But I’ll let you in on a secret. That whole curtains matching the drapes thing. When you get right down to it, we don’t give a shit.”
She stared at him.
He didn’t crack a smile. In his strange, weird way her boss was giving her dating advice. There couldn’t be a better time to get out of Dodge.
Becca hurried outside and found one of the green, iron bistro tables, one where she could see the door of the shop and plopped into a chair. A half hour later she was done checking email and texts and went back inside to see if the woman had called to cancel. She hadn’t.
The thought of calling the club flitted through her head, but her stomach knotted so quickly she knew that wasn’t the thing to do. Would the woman be punished for not showing? Maybe she had disobeyed on purpose because she wanted punished. Or had something horrible happened to her between yesterday afternoon and now? If it had, wouldn’t the others have known?
Becca realized the questions could be never-ending if she let them. She went inside, grabbed her purse from her locker and asked Joe to call her if the woman showed. She took the next hour and walked around the Galleria. Window-shopping until she reached the French lingerie store. What were the chances they were having a super-clearance sale? Because that’s what it would take to snag a pair of matching bra and panties from there. She had a set of their signature line. Pink and black. Purchased by her ex when money hadn’t been an object.
Of course, she’d learned a little too late where the seemingly unending cash flow had come from. It wasn’t investments or Vinnie running the tables at Vegas. Not according to the state prosecutor.
Becca hadn’t thought about her embezzlement undies in quite a while.
Chad had said he wanted her waiting for him. Becca not being sprawled on his couch in something sexy would break one of the major tenets of a new relationship. She brought her fingers to her lips, covering the smile she couldn’t hide. They were definitely in a relationship, not some “we fell into each other’s arms, had mind-boggling sex, then went our separate ways” thing. Not unless she wanted it to. He wouldn’t have given her his key if that’s all it was to him.
Hope wound its way around her heart for the first time in years. What they had would be solid. How couldn’t it be when they’d laid a foundation of mutual admiration and trust already. And the communication? That couldn’t get any better.
There would be blips, no doubt. But she felt as if they had a better start than most couples she knew. Seriously, he didn’t even mind when she made him detour through the shoe department on their way to sporting goods. She glanced down at her feet, at the great pair of Ferragamos she’d had for years. Classic black suede pumps that complemented her dressier work jeans. Because, technically, Florida in January was still considered winter.
For the first time since her divorce she had the key to a man’s house in her purse. She looked up at the mannequin in the window once more. Her trusty Am Ex was calling to her. Telling her nothing went better with black suede and the brightly inked hues that covered her torso than cobalt-blue satin.
There was no way in hell Chad was casting a vote to reelect the mayor. Not after the way the man had dragged out his meal when Chad had so desperately wanted to get home. Four fucking hours. He’d almost pulled his hair out when the fat bastard asked him to “elucidate on fortified wines not produced in Portugal that were errantly being passed off as port”.
Apparently someone had been reading Wine Enthusiast.
After Chad had finished that lengthy lesson, the man proceeded to order a bottle of the true Portuguese spirit and encourage his guests to drink it as slowly as humanly possible.
Chad yelled goodnight to the chef, saluted the bartenders on his way past the lounge and headed for the parking garage. The minute he was in his car he texted Becca that he was on his way. He backed up and hadn’t moved the gearshift into drive before her simple response arrived.
: )
It had been years since there had been anyone for him to come home to. Even after she’d taken the key he had worried that he might have freaked her out. But he was getting too damn old to play games. He never liked them in the first place. Waking up with her that morning, her back against his chest, the cleft of her ass cradling his hard-on… Why the hell hadn’t they done that sooner?
Becca had obviously liked it as well. She had yawned and stretched and told him she was satisfied to the max. He’d grinned like an idiot, he was sure. Her pleading green eyes almost persuaded him to spread her thighs and take her again. But remembering their urgency the night before, how they’d gone at it as if their lives depended on getting everything in one night, he had refused. It was the first time that a woman actually pouted when he’d refused to make love to her.
Love, huh?
He turned onto his street, telling himself it was just a phrase. Easy enough to think of when the words remained in his head. When someone wasn’t pressuring him to say them. Asking him over and over again how much he adored them.
But Becca wasn’t that girl. She was confident, not a raving bitch who wanted more than he’d be willing to give. After all this time, he’d have seen that side of her if it was there, hidden under the hot body and kick-ass attitude.
Chad pulled into his parking spot and killed the engine. He’d had his emotions pulverized before and it wasn’t something he wanted to repeat. He knew that was part of the reason he hadn’t dated anyone more than a few times over the past two years. He knew the other part of that explanation was waiting for him upstairs. His heart beat a little faster and he threw his door open and hustled along toward the elevator.
He had no idea how he’d find her and he wasn’t lying when he told her he didn’t care. That she wanted to be there was enough for now.
But Chad remembered the soft adoring look Becca had given him when she was getting ready to walk out his door that morning, how she’d let the elevator doors close and disappear as she walked back and wrapped her arms around his waist for one of her signature hugs. He knew for a fact she already held a part of his heart. At this stage, only one question remained. Could he trust her with all of it?
Chapter Six
If Chad had the house rigged with nanny cams, he’d be laughing his ass off when he viewed the recordings. Becca practiced one sexy pose after another. She’d draped herself over various pieces of his furniture until the ridiculousness of it all took hold. She’d ended up perched on the arm of his loveseat, dissolving in a fit of laughter.
It would look as if she was having a seizure on the playback, but Becca hoped by then she would have figured out how to achieve sultriness and have it look unplanned.
She had just pulled on a pair of Madden over-the-knee black leather boots with four-inch heels when Chad texted. Her palms were actually sweating when she picked up her phone and replied. What was she? Fifteen years old and trying to figure out how to get the star point guard to kiss her under the bleachers?
Her heels clicked across the hardwood floor as she practiced strutting into his dining area. She stopped and cocked a hip, looking at her reflection in the huge mirror he had propped against the wall. If he decided to do her on his dining room table, they’d have a great side view.
The indigo-colored demi bra and low-rise panties rocked. Worth every single penny. Becca patted her stomach, still pretty damn good for spending most of her days sitting down and not getting to the gym as often as she used to. She turned and looked over her s
houlder, checking out the way the boots hugged her legs. He’d like them. The big question was, micro-mini or not. She’d brought over a black trench coat, too. Maybe she ought to throw it on and pretend she’d accepted an impossible mission.
“That’s freakin’ brilliant,” she said aloud, rushing carefully across the floor to grab the coat out of the hall closet. She put it on and cinched it around her waist as she placed one foot in front of the other, catwalk style. “I’m your mission, Chad. Should you choose to accept it,” she said, practicing. Would he laugh? And would that be with her, not at her?
She hurried to the kitchen and shut off the overhead lights, opting for the soft under-the-cabinet ambiance before hopping onto the kitchen island. She rested her palms on the cool granite and leaned backward, thrusting her breasts in his imaginary direction. “Good evening, Mr. Harrington.”
That sounded lame. She crossed then uncrossed her legs, wondering which looked better. The one-bell signal sounded, alerting her that the elevator was on its way up. She flipped her hair backward. “Welcome home, secret agent man.”
Oh my god. Just go with “I’ve been waiting all night for you to get home and bang me”.
That didn’t even go with the theme.
Becca heard the key turn in the lock and gave up. She undid the coat, yanked it out from under her ass and tossed it aside, not caring where it landed.
“Hey, baby. Where are you?” he asked in a tone usually reserved for hide and seek.
“Kitchen.”
He rounded the corner, stopped dead in his tracks. Becca didn’t have to force the sexy grin that parted her lips. His shock made her brave.
“How was your day, handsome?”
Oh, yeah. Perfect.
He shrugged out of his suit coat and flung it toward the counter. He missed it by a foot and Becca offered him what she hoped was a come-and-get-me grin.
“Damn. I like that,” he said, walking up to her slowly before pacing all the way around the island. “And I definitely like these.” He ran his hands up the inside of her boots. He didn’t stop when his warm palms hit her bare skin and he eased her legs apart but didn’t step closer.
That isn’t going to work, Becca thought. How was she going to seduce him if he was more than an arm’s length away?
“Great color,” he added. “And I’m really diggin’ this little strip of un-inked skin. Right here.” He stroked the exposed strip of pale skin between the top of her panties and the bottom of her torso sleeve and Becca squirmed against the countertop.
“What’s this?” he teased, tracing it again but she had already focused on not allowing it to tickle. He shifted his wrists and moved his hands upward, the back of his fingernails flitting over her stomach then her abs. He stopped just shy of her breasts and took a step backward. “I’ll bet there’s somewhere else you’re sensitive.”
There was. Becca pulled herself into a more upright position and gripped the edges of the counter. With exaggerated slowness she arched her back, hoping he’d take the hint. Chad reached for his tie and slowly yanked the knot loose. His hot gaze raked her from the top of her head to the tip of her boots, her body tingling in the wake of his perusal. Her skin felt aflame and her nipples tightened.
“See that’s just not fair.” He cupped her breasts and ran his fingers over the satin, zeroing in on her hardened buds despite the light padding that hid their exact location. “You look like a sixties pinup. Spank bank material for sure.” He stepped to the island and offered her his mouth, not kissing her, but just hovering an inch away. “How am I ever going to be able to lean on this counter and read the sports section again without thinking of this?”
If he wanted her to come to him, Becca would gladly oblige. She brought their lips together then smiled.
“What’s so funny?” he asked without taking his mouth away.
“How much better you kiss now,” she teased, then buried her fingers in the silky hair framing his angular face.
“I’m obviously an unbeatable teacher. Although I do think you need a little more practice.”
“If you say so.” She covered his lips, challenging his statement with a deep, open-mouth kiss that left them both breathless. She looked into his blue eyes and began undoing his tie.
“Or maybe not,” he said, working the buttons of his shirt free with amazing speed.
She reached out and ran her hands over his washboard abs. She thought about seeing if he was ticklish, but that could wait. “What else can you teach me?”
“Hmmm. You’ve showed your proficiency with the rudiments of Latin this morning. And you’ve obviously learned my favorite method of polishing this countertop.”
Becca smiled and reached for his belt buckle but he pushed her hands away. She watched as he took off his belt and wound it around his fist until it was a neat circle. She undid the closure on his slacks and slowly pulled the zipper down. The whiteness of his briefs surprised her.
“Tighty whities? What happened to those hot boxers?”
“Not when I’m working. Like to keep the package nice and tight. Plus, I’d hate to disappoint my mom if I were in an accident.” He stepped back and put the belt on the counter then bent down and removed his shoes.
Becca had a few moments of admiring the way his pants hugged his ass before he stood up and they slid down his legs. He stepped out of them and spread his arms wide, offering her sexy and silly all in one gesture.
“That’s right, baby. You know you want this.” He put his hands on his waist and thrust his hips, his aforementioned package threatening to break free from the cotton that contained it.
“You know I do.” Becca laughed, not realizing until this moment how well humor and foreplay went together. Or maybe it was just Chad who made the combination perfect. “It could only be better if you slid across the hardwood and did the Risky Business dance.”
“You’re such a chick,” he replied, grabbing the ends of his tie and pulling them back and forth as he Chippendaled his way toward her. “I’d have gone with The Full Monty.”
“Hmm,” she replied, tapping her finger against her lips, trying to keep a straight face. He was ridiculously sexy. And sometimes just ridiculous. The mixture was melting her heart. “Enough talk, funny guy. Come over here. A girl can’t wait forever, you know.”
“That depends what she’s waiting for,” he said in a husky voice. “And how good her lover can make her wait.” He had her in his arms before she knew it. His lips recaptured her mouth and the urgency of his kiss rocketed her desire. “You’d like that. Wouldn’t you?”
Becca’s pussy pulsed at his words. Anticipation was a healthy aphrodisiac and when he bent down and set her in the middle of his huge leather ottoman her entire body began to thrum. Images of a woman riding the edge between denial and release flitted through Becca’s mind. But it wasn’t the woman at the club, the one suspended over the barrel. The woman was Becca. And it was Chad who was lovingly denying her release.
Becca pulled her legs underneath her and rose to her knees. If she was ever going to delve into a little kinkier lovemaking, it should be with someone she trusted. But to come out and say exactly what she was thinking? “I want you. Make love to me. Right here.” She couldn’t make her need any clearer.
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs and pulled them away from his erection then down his legs. His cock was perfectly curved, it touched his stomach and her mouth went dry as she remembered his taste. Wetness slicked her folds. “Right now,” she added.
“We need to work on your control issues, my dear.”
Becca’s head shot upward and her pussy clenched, his choice of words taking her straight back to the wine cellar at the club. Had he known she had been thinking about that woman? Or that a part of her wanted to try being tied up? To have her spread out before him on the ottoman, him rubbing and licking and sucking until her entire body was quivering. And then have him deny her release.
“Did you say that on purpose?” sh
e asked, her voice wobbling with desire.
Chad looked down at her. His mouth set in a firm line. “And why would I do that?”
She didn’t want to play their usual back and forth game. She inhaled deeply. “Because you think we can do what those people at the club did?”
He took his time walking toward the end table, making a production of turning on the lamp. Soft light filled the center of the room but kept the corners dark. Her heart drummed and she wasn’t sure which was worse. The brightness that would expose every hill and valley of her body or the shadowy dimness at the outer edges of the room.
“Maybe not to that extreme since there isn’t a wine barrel in sight but I’m a very quick learner. I know I can bring you to the brink of coming. How long I hold you there is something we’ll have to work out.” Chad turned back to her and pulled his tie free, holding it out to her with one finger. He made it swing from side to side, just like the man at the club had done with the vibrator and Becca’s clit started to throb.
“The choices are yours, Becca. They always will be. But periodically, I’d like to give an order or two. Just to keep the playing field level.”
Becca held his gaze, tried to keep her chest from rising and falling too quickly. Her fingers twitched. He was willing to tie her down, tease her. Did she trust him enough to do that? They’d shared a moment at that club. She’d be safe with Chad.
She offered him her wrists. “Nothing crazy.”
“Nothing crazy,” he repeated. He took a step to the far end of the ottoman. “Come here.”
Becca blinked at his order. It was a pure, unadulterated command. She thought he’d just bind her hands and lay her down on the huge leather surface. Tease her awhile. Then make her come.
“Now,” he said in a firmer tone.
Becca licked her lips. They suddenly seemed as if they were on fire.
Control means ordering. Get over it.
She let her hands fall to her sides and crawled off the ottoman. He sat down, spreading his knees and Becca stared at his cock, which was less erect than it had been. It leaned to his right and she took an anticipatory step forward. She hoped he’d order her to suck it back to fullness.
