Yours Tonight

by Joya Ryan

  The re-focusing part was going to be tricky.

  I had no idea of Jack’s agenda, but being around him frazzled me enough to consume my thoughts. I had replayed every word, smile, and stare, and finally come to a decision. Yes, he may be a super sexy sparkplug that made me feel and want things—like his body and attention—but I couldn’t be with him. He would technically have power over me professionally.

  I glanced at my watch, then rang the bell.

  “Half hour,” I reminded myself. I’d stick to my plan. State plainly that distance was best while I worked at the payroll office.

  “Miss Case?” A woman asked, opening the door. Her presence shocked me. Didn’t people who worked from home typically wear sweatpants and order in Chinese?

  “Miss Case?” the woman asked again, because I stared like a buffoon. Finally, I shook off my surprise and glanced around. Yep, right house.

  “Sorry, yes, I’m Lana Case. I though Jack was…here?”

  She was pretty. Young. Her short bob and bangs were perfectly coiffed. Suddenly, the dress I’d picked this morning felt like a shabby clearance rack item. Which it was. Not that anyone would know. Typically I wouldn’t care, but the woman before me looked like she wore only the finest designer skirts and heels.

  “I’m Nina, Mr. Powell’s assistant. He is here and expecting you.”

  Wasn’t that great. His assistant knew me and hung out at his house. I suppose there weren’t a lot of single brunettes coming to see him. Or maybe there were and this was part of the “drill”? I hadn’t said a time I’d show up, and he hadn’t given me one. With the power of technology, texting, email, even a phone call, Jack made it hard to understand not only his motives, but timeframes and expectations. Especially since he’d used none of the above to contact me thus far.

  Something I was going to clear up.

  Just like I practiced last night. Sure, I may have looked like a freak, pacing in my room and talking to myself. Going over talking points and why my decision that Jack and I maintain a professional relationship was smart.

  When Nina led me up the staircase, and wove down the hallway, we came to a large wooden door with a brass knob. She opened the door, and when I saw Jack standing at the other end of the large office, hands in his pockets, looking perfect in matching black pants, vest, and tie with a crisp white button up, those talking points went right out the large window he was looking out.

  He didn’t say anything and neither did his assistant. She shut the door behind me, the knob bumping my ass and pushing me forward, as if the damn thing were shoving me closer.

  “Good afternoon,” he said, facing me. Between the black suit and wicked gleam in his dark eyes, every inch of his skin looked tan and mouthwatering. Apparently, I had been way off on home offices and working in sweat pants, because Jack dominated this domain. All hardwood floors, with a massive desk that looked fit for the King of England, circa the sixteen-hundreds. Large built-in book shelves that matched the desk took up an entire wall, while two other doors were on the opposite side, and large windows framed the center back wall.

  “Hi.”

  He took a step toward me. “You look beautiful.” That dark gaze raked over my body. “I’m glad you wore a dress.”

  “Why?” The thin-strapped summer dress was flowy and pink, but was still within the dress code for work. When he didn’t answer my question, I cleared my throat and attempted to recite my logical decision I’d come to yesterday, because standing there and staring at him wasn’t helping anything. Unless my skin collecting goose bumps counted as helping. Besides, Jack liked it when I spoke plainly. Actually, he had helped me start doing that.

  “I like my job,” half-truth. My job was okay. But it was a means to an end, and it was a paycheck, one I needed to live and save for grad school. “I’d like to continue working without distraction.”

  He looked at me like I’d just issued a challenge. “You think I’m a distraction?”

  He pulled his hands out of his pockets. I was instantly transfixed by the buttons of his vest running down his stomach. It made me wonder how long it would take to unbutton each one. What hard muscle lay beneath? Surely, two seconds per button, which would cut into the original half hour I’d allotted to tell him why we should keep a distance. Distance and undressing him were counter ideas.

  “You’re definitely a distraction,” I said, still doing mental calculations on how long the pants, shirt, and tie would take to shuck.

  “I see. And what is it I distract you from?”

  “My job,” I said quickly.

  “Bullshit.” His response was fast and cut quick, shocking me. “I know this is an interim job for the summer for you. And I’ve told you I won’t interfere. So, tell me the truth.”

  “I am,” I said. Time to recite: “Since you own the resorts, you have a professional power over me. If we entered into any kind of non-professional relationship and it went sour, you could fire me at any point.”

  “I could also just fire you now for no reason whatsoever.”

  I frowned, then tried to swallow back a little unease. “I guess that’s true.”

  “You said professional power over you,” he restated my words. “What if I’m not interested in that? What if I want a different kind of power over you?”

  I frowned. “What other kind is there?”

  “Every other kind.”

  I stared at him for a long moment. He was serious, unmoving stone. Something I was learning he did well. Opening my mouth to say something turned into a quick fail. Because no words came out. Was this a game? Did he want me? What did “power over me” mean exactly? While all these question were buzzing in my brain, he continued.

  “Enough of this professional relationship excuse. It’s a weak argument. Especially now that we’ve determined firing you is not on my list of desires, and holds no bounds anyway to now or later. So, what is it that you’re really struggling with?”

  “You,” I snapped, my eyes meeting him. “I’m struggling with you.”

  “How so?”

  “You make me feel things, and distract me, and—”

  “What things?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What things do I make you feel?” He stepped until his Italian leather shoes met my cute wedges, and I could smell his rich scent and feel his heat. God, I’ve missed that heat. And I’d only had it the one night.

  “Different,” I whispered.

  The night I’d met him, he made me feel safe. Protected. He put me at ease while challenging me. Just like now. And I wanted to rise to that challenge and grab hold of the strength pumping through my veins. “You make me feel different.”

  “That’s a vague word. Care to give me another?”

  I shook my head, because any other word I could come up with didn’t sound appropriate. Words like hot, bothered, and downright lusty.

  “Alright, then I’ll have to, once again, decipher your half answers.”

  He took my hand and yanked me toward his desk. “Jack, I came here to—”

  “I know why you came. Now sit.”

  I looked behind me. “You want me to sit on your desk?”

  “Yes.”

  He cupped my hips and hopped me up, instantly wedging himself between my parted thighs. I gasped and went to wiggle away, pulling on my dress to cover my legs better. He gripped my wrists, and with them in his fists, rested them on either side of me. Trapped.

  With the cool glossy wood of his desk beneath my palms and thighs, a zing of fire shot through me, and the feel of him so close only made me want more.

  His mouth hovered over mine, as he looked at my face.

  “I make you feel different,” he repeated, that mouth now trailing to my ear. “How about nervous? Do I still make you nervous?”

  I nodded.

  “Hot?” he asked.

  I nodded again. He trailed his nose along my neck and my eyes slid shut. Whatever plan I’d had coming in here was failing.

&nb
sp; “You are an anomaly to me, Lana. You have to be handled delicately.”

  With my eyes closed, I frowned. “I’m not weak.”

  “I didn’t say that. I was referring to the pursuit. I have to be careful. Not scare you off. I’ve seen fear in your eyes, and I want you to understand that is not my goal.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.” Not in the way I was of most men. Not in the way Brock scared me.

  The only thing I felt with Jack was confusion. Because my body was screaming for him, my mind racing, and my chest pounding. It was all new: wanting someone. But I did want him. So much. “Not calling me made me think you weren’t interested.”

  “I was out of the country. I have a lot of resorts to handle.”

  And didn’t that make me feel like an idiot. I hadn’t considered any details like his job or life beyond the making-out moment. Up until yesterday, when he showed up as my boss, I didn’t have any idea about him beyond how he dominated a kiss. But he did have a life. And now my lack of experience in matters of men, dating, and expectations in general, especially when it involved physical interactions, was getting the better of me.

  “You said you didn’t want to scare me off,” I said, trying to change the subject. “What’s so scary about you?”

  He grinned, but there was a sinister glow to it. “Several things. What I want and how I take it can be...abrupt.”

  Hence, me sitting on his desk, dress hiked up my thighs and him between them. Still, I had to know: “What is it you want?”

  “You.” He gently nipped my jaw.

  I gasped, but tried to keep as calm as possible. He was so quick with his words. Like he knew exactly what to say. Could he really want me? In the way I wanted him? The warning in Jack’s voice, when he spoke of taking what he wanted, made me wonder if I could, in fact, handle him. Only one way to find out.

  “H-how would you take what you wanted?”

  “Thoroughly and repeatedly.”

  His admission hit my mouth, and I wanted it to be true. He was direct, painted a picture of what exactly those two words meant, and how he’d carry them out.

  “But, again, I have to be careful with you.” He released my wrists and trailed his hand up to my neck and cupped it. “You may not be weak, but you haven’t realized your full strength yet. I want to help with that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of how you make me feel.”

  “What way is that?”

  He wrapped his free arm around my lower back and pulled me into him. My legs parted further, my dress scrunched higher, and his hard cock rubbed against my panties.

  “Different,” he said, using my own word against me. He slowly moved, hitting a spot between my legs that stirred heat. It started in my core and began building.

  “You want me to elaborate on my feelings, yet you won’t?”

  He thrust hard, sliding that steel rod along my center. Reaching between us, he moved my panties aside. He didn’t touch me, though. What was more surprising was that I let him. The only thing I felt was needy. My skin was slowly scorching and desperate for more of anything he’d offer. Because nothing had ever felt this amazing.

  He moved his hips in a way that put his cock between my folds, directly pressing on my clit. A surge of pleasure rushed over my entire body. My skin tingled and my hands reached out and wrapped around him. He thrust slowly, up, then down, running his erection the entire length of my core. Though his pants were a barrier, I felt him perfectly. The soft, crisp fabric against my heated flesh only added to the realization of how close and yet how far away we were.

  “I want to get back to how I make you feel. You said hot?”

  I nodded.

  “What about wet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you think of me? This week? Last week? Whenever it was you kissed another man?” He thrust harder this time.

  A jolt of lust pricked from the little bundle of nerves he was rubbing against to the base of my neck and everything in between.

  I bit my lip, but nodded. “Yes. But—”

  “Do you feel weak around me?” He did a twisting movement, circling over and over that same spot. That blessed spot that made me ache and claw for more. Because the prickling beneath my skin was rising with every move he made.

  “You make me feel weak in a different way. In some ways, I feel stronger with you.”

  “Good. That’s the beauty of power. Having it and wielding it. It’s beneficial for both parties.”

  “You said you wanted to wield power over me?”

  “Yes.” That was straight to the point and he punctuated it with another thrust.

  I moaned, and my head would have fallen back if he wasn’t keeping a tight grip on my nape. I should be shying away, but didn’t. I stayed there, my thighs surrounding him.

  He was the only man I’d ever let touch me like this. Any other try in the past never got this far, and ended with me warding off tears and terror. Not now. Everything about Jack was different. Like he understood what I needed. What I wanted. I didn’t know how he knew, but at the end of the day, at least he was being honest. The least I could do was be the same.

  “I don’t like men having power over me. Ever.”

  He looked into my eyes. “It requires trust.”

  “Another thing I don’t typically give men.”

  “But you gave me some. Let me take you to my home. A part of you trusted me, and is trusting me now.”

  That was true. I did. It came from the same place that had an instant connection with Cal. They shared a common denominator that allowed me to feel…safe.

  That word rattled my skull because it was a wonderful feeling, just one I didn’t have much acquaintance with. Involving myself with Jack would be going so far beyond my knowledge and comfort zone, I didn’t know where to start. But I knew, looking in his eyes, it was serious.

  “I want to earn more of your trust,” he rasped. His grip tightened as he moved against me. Like trying to get deeper, closer, but there was nowhere further to go. He set the boundary.

  “Why?” My breaths were coming faster, pleasure building. “Look at you. You don’t have to work for a woman.”

  I dropped my glance from his eyes to his chest. Those damn buttons daunting me. I wanted to rip them open, but shook off the desire and clung tighter to his back. I didn’t want to go into specifics, but he should know a hint of the truth.

  “I’m not experienced in this way.” I rocked my hips a little, meeting his motion, and a low hum broke from his chest. “I don’t think that I’m the type of woman you’re looking for.”

  With his palm still on my neck, he raised my face, making me meet his eyes.

  “I disagree.” He moved his hips again, hitting my sweet spot over and over until breathing was impossible. “You may not be experienced, but you have the desire. I can feel it—smell it—on you.” His lips were against mine when he said, “Whatever the reason it is that your passion has been smothered is a fucking shame. You have to know yourself before you can have strength and full confidence.”

  “And you’ll help me know myself?”

  “Yes.”

  “And for that, you want power. Over me?” I moaned again, because the ecstasy was climbing higher. “Power like you have over me right now?”

  “Is this so bad?” He shoved me even closer, his arm around me like a clamp.

  No, it wasn’t. But it was apparent who was in control. And it was Jack. To have as little or as much of me as he wanted. And I sat there, praying he’d take more.

  “I want you to trust that I know what I’m doing and we’ll both come out better from our encounters. But in the end, you always have the power. And that comes with one word: No. The moment you say it, I’ll stop. Anything and everything.”

  That idea was a heavy one. He respected a single word, and it was up to me when and if I wanted to say it. I didn’t. In fact, I wanted to say yes. But several things were still weighing on me. Things I needed clarity
on.

  “I didn’t feel better after this past week. I felt confused. Felt bad.” Not a smart thing to admit, since I was already in a vulnerable state. I ran my lips along his. Desperate for a taste.

  He groaned, and it was the one sign I’d gotten that he was perhaps just as affected as I was. In control or not, he felt something too.

  “I understand now that you don’t do space without explanation,” he rasped. “And you understand that I had a prior engagement that took me overseas. But neither of those occurrences deters from the fact that I want you.”

  I thought back to the night I met him. He was right, a piece of me trusted him. Was this my moment? To explore trust and be a woman who had confidence? To refuse to be wrecked by my past? Wanting these things was different than taking action to get them. But I’d be naïve to think I was the kind of woman who had a clue as to the extent of what Jack wanted sexually.

  “I want you too,” I admitted. “So much. But I’m nervous.”

  “I know. We can work with that. Just because I take pleasure in power and control,” he gave one final thrust, then slowly slid to his knees, “doesn’t mean you won’t get to obtain the same.”

  I looked down at him, half hating that he’d left me when my body was so close to euphoria, the other half realizing what he was doing. He’d purposefully put me in a position to feel above him, to feel confident.

  This whole time, he kept a barrier between us because he sensed my limits. Maybe he didn’t want to test them just yet? All the while being a force tightening around me like gravity. He was controlled, enough to understand what I needed. Which should scare me a little, but there he was, just like the night I met him, tapping into a deep need within me. And that need was finally coming alive.

  On his knees before me, he ran his palms up my claves.

  I shivered and fought the urge to squirm away. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t, because his wide shoulders prevented my knees from closing. My body shot to code red when his lips landed on my inner thigh.

  “Wait,” I breathed. “No one has…don’t look…”