She worked his shirt buttons, hungrily taking his mouth, and he inched down her bare lower back, finding the zipper of her expensive dress. In seconds, the dress dropped to the floor, in a pool by her red-soled stiletto Christian Louboutins. Now she stood naked before him, wearing only a lacy thong. He still wore his shirt, though she’d gotten half the buttons undone, the muscled shape of his chest visible in the low light. She itched to touch his bare skin and wanted to put her hands in his shirt.
But then, his hands rested on her hips as he moved her backward, as she carefully stepped out of her dress. His lips demanded more of her, and they moved back into the room, until the ridge of a table hit the back of her upper thighs. In one quick motion, he’d lifted her up on the table. His mouth trailed down her neck then, down the front of her chest, and his tongue found her nipples. She gasped as he took one in his mouth, gently, the pressure of his teeth on the edge creating a pool of want between her legs. Now it was her turn to feel desire burning in her belly, to feel the rage of need churning in her.
She forgot completely about the Sphinx Society, about her little game with Durand. About how she needed to be in control. Now, all she wanted was his hands and his mouth and everything he could give her. And she wanted it now. Asha opened her thighs and pulled him closer to her. All that separated him and her was the thin little stretch of lacy fabric of her thong. In that moment, she didn’t even think about consequences: about protection or about whether or not she’d actually even get the membership she so wanted. All she knew was that she burned for this man in a way she hadn’t burned for anyone. Perhaps ever.
She wanted him. And she rarely wanted anyone.
She could feel him pressing against her pelvic bone, could feel the thick weight of him against her as he shifted his attention to the most delicate spot on her throat.
“Yes,” she whispered as she glanced up at the full moon overhead in the circle of paned glass in the domed ceiling. “I want you inside me.”
He pressed harder against the thin fabric, and his hands went to the edges of her thong. She suddenly wanted him to rip it away, the passion between them burning so hot he couldn’t help himself. Yet Durand hesitated.
Why? Her brain burned with impatience. Her whole body simmered with need. Now this wasn’t a game, wasn’t about any membership, it was about something deeper and more primal. It was about her want.
And then, he backed away from her. Cold air hit her bare body. She blinked fast in the near darkness. What was he doing?
She struggled to understand why as she watched him tuck himself inside his fly and zip his pants.
“I’m afraid I cannot accept this...” He glanced at her bare chest, her nearly naked body, prostrate on the table. “Bribe. Beautiful...and tempting...though it may be. Especially since I know this isn’t you, Asha.”
She froze then. Feeling more than naked. Feeling vulnerable. “What do you mean?”
“You are playacting. You are wearing a mask of your own choosing.”
“No, I’m not.” At least, she wasn’t now. Maybe it had started as a game, but the pounding of her heart in her chest was real, the thumping of want in her belly as true as it got.
He took another step backward and grabbed the tuxedo jacket across a nearby chair. He dusted it off. His composure was returning, bit by bit.
“I’ll allow you time to compose yourself, Ms. Patel. Then I’ll have someone escort you out.”
With that, he turned on his heel and left her, nearly naked, completely unsatisfied, and hot with embarrassment—and want. She panted, wondering what the hell had just happened. Somehow, he’d seen through her tactics, seen to the slightly scared, intimidated woman beneath. But how? She couldn’t be that obvious. She was too good at acting for him to know the truth. Wasn’t she?
But, God, the worst of it was, she wasn’t even pretending. Her thighs were slick with want, and her pulse beat hard in her temples. Her body had responded to him honestly. His tongue had ignited a white-hot fire in her belly.
And then, he’d walked away. Could it be that he found her...lacking? That he didn’t want her as much as she wanted him? Could he sense that her body was somehow wrong, that unlike other women, she couldn’t climax so easily? Her own insecurities ate at her.
Or...was it just as he said, that he was a man determined not to be bribed?
Asha didn’t know what to believe, but the rejection burned. He didn’t find her sexy? The look in his eyes told her otherwise, and yet...here she was. Alone and abandoned.
This would not be tolerated, she thought, as she hopped off the table and snatched her dress angrily off the floor. Her hurt and insecurities dissolved beneath a tidal wave of fury. She’d never been treated this way. She wouldn’t allow it. Not now. Not ever.
CHAPTER FOUR
DURAND COULDN’T CONCENTRATE on anything his assistant, Madelyn, was saying in the makeshift office of the penthouse suite in the Savoy Hotel in London. His large windows overlooked the Thames, and in the distance, the London Eye circled slowly, taking tourists upwards to view the city. He barely noticed them or the inside of his posh suite with the plush white couches and golden pillows facing a green marble fireplace as Madelyn went over the last of the bills from the night before. They were supposed to be tying up loose ends from the party, but his mind was elsewhere. Durand was consumed, too busy remembering the feel of Asha’s bare breasts in his hands. Heavy. Soft. Perfect.
And the bright light of triumph in her eyes when she worked him, made him hard for her.
“Mr. Durand?” Madelyn’s soft voice found him. She had her hands poised on her keyboard. “Should I reach out to our usual vendor about catering for the big ball?”
“Yes,” Durand managed. “Sure, Madelyn. That would be great.”
“Is everything all right, sir?” Madelyn, wearing a pristine gray wool fitted blazer and a slim-fit skirt, sat with her legs pressed together on the small love seat, her laptop perched on her knees. Her blond hair was up in a tight French twist.
“Yes, Madelyn. Sorry. I’m just a bit...distracted.” That was the understatement of the year. All he could think about were Asha’s big dark eyes, wide with want for him, and the taste of her delicious mouth. How he’d only barely restrained himself from taking exactly what she offered him. He’d been so very close to falling into her trap. He refused to be another one of the woman’s famous conquests, one more love-struck boy in her wake. He was no boy. He was a man—a man used to being in control. A man who’d worked his entire life to consolidate power, to outmaneuver his enemies, and to show the world he had no weaknesses, especially ones that revolved around feelings and wants. He’d long since learned to control those.
And then Asha Patel strolled into his life and wreaked havoc, dive-bombed his self-control, made him second-guess everything. Because he’d never had a woman he wanted so badly before. He always prided himself on being a man who could take or leave promises of the flesh. After all, one woman was very much like another.
Until Asha.
Asha, who he guessed that the very second he gave in to her, fell into her bed and promised her a membership, would dance out of his life, laughing as she went. And he could not risk that. She was a formidable foe, and one that couldn’t be underestimated.
Yet something about the way she kissed, the way she’d pressed her body against his, told him that maybe she wasn’t quite as experienced as she claimed. He couldn’t say how he knew, exactly, just that the reality of the woman was different than the reputation. There were layers to her that he hadn’t expected. Delightful little surprises.
Maybe that was why she stirred such passion in him. Because, God, how he’d wanted her. Like he’d wanted no one in his entire life.
“So, the tallies, sir? Are they suitable?” Madelyn held the bills in her hand from the British Museum and the Savoy. Work this morning seemed pointless.
&nbs
p; “Yes,” he said, waving his hand, not bothering to double-check the totals. These details didn’t interest him this morning. All he wanted was Asha. And he felt as if rejecting her last night was a mistake.
Asha was a proud woman, and he’d rejected her: twice. What were the odds she tried for a third time? But if he were truly honest with himself, he worried that he wouldn’t be able to fend off a third advance. He wanted her. Wanted her the way he’d never wanted a woman before. It felt primal, chemical, like their fate was somehow entwined in their DNA. He’d never felt want this powerful before. Never felt like it was out of his control.
Durand prided himself on his self-control. He wasn’t like other men who let their petty vices rule their lives. No. Durand’s father had taught him to be mentally strong in the usual way rich fathers did: by ignoring him. He knew that was part of the reason he’d taken a small, meaningless society and turned it into a force to be reckoned with. To get noticed. To keep people’s notice. To have a place where he made the rules. And he so loved the rules.
Asha, on the other hand, hated rules. She clearly looked to circumvent them at every turn. In some ways, he knew that this was all a game to her. All she wanted was a membership, and after she got it, well, he suspected she would disappear from his life forever. And he worried that he didn’t want her to leave. Not at all.
“Sir?”
Durand blinked again, realizing that Madelyn had been speaking and he hadn’t been listening.
“Yes?”
“Will that be all, sir? Or did you want me to fetch you some tea?” Madelyn was standing now, laptop folded against her chest.
“No, thank you. And, yes, that will be all.” Madelyn nodded once and headed towards the door, no doubt to head back to her own hotel room to finish making the calls and setting up appointments. He needed to concentrate, needed to clear his mind of thoughts of Asha, but the harder he tried, the more he failed. Madelyn hesitated at the door.
“Uh, one more thing, Mr. Durand.”
He glanced up. “Yes?”
“Ms. Patel has been calling Sphinx Society board members this morning.”
“Excuse me?” The Sphinx Society had a board, just like any other private firm, but it was largely ceremonial. Durand himself owned the lion’s share of the company. The board really just worked to give more prominent members a larger role. Durand ultimately still made the big decisions.
“Yes, sir.” Madelyn hesitated, seemingly surprised by his sudden pointed interest. “She’s trying to bribe them so that she can get a membership.”
“You knew about this and you didn’t tell me?” Durand felt anger rising in him, uncharacteristically. Normally, he never lost his cool, but he didn’t like that Asha was making moves without him knowing about it. He wanted to know everything she planned. Hell, if he were honest, he just wanted to know everything about her.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Durand.” Madelyn couldn’t meet his gaze. “I—I didn’t think it rose to a level—” She looked up at him and swallowed the rest of her sentence. “I mean, she can’t bribe the board. They work for you. And even if she did, she won’t get an invitation to the club without your direct consent.”
“Yes. But I’d still like to be informed.” Everything Madelyn said was true, but he still wanted to know what Asha was doing, especially if she was talking to his board. What was she saying? What was she accusing him of? And more importantly...had she given up on trying to win him over entirely? He didn’t like that idea. Not one bit. And yet...he admired her resolve, her determination to circumvent him. He’d seen through her playacting, and called her on it, and yet...she still wasn’t giving up.
Most people would run home, embarrassed, but not Asha. She had determination. She was stubborn. Stupidly stubborn, and part of him admired her for it. The more he told her no, the more she was determined to get her way. Intriguing.
“You have taken an interest in Ms. Patel?” Madelyn asked, as she struggled to keep both face and voice neutral.
“A passing interest,” he said, wondering if that were even true. Asha seemed never far from his thoughts. He was already more interested than he should be. That might be dangerous.
“Yes. Of course.” Madelyn looked at the floor, once again working hard to keep her face blank. “I’ll keep you informed.”
He glanced at his downtrodden assistant, feeling guilty. “It’s not your fault. Asha is...” he struggled to find the right words “...a unique case.”
“Yes, sir.” Madelyn still wasn’t looking at him as she turned the knob of the door.
“Wait, Madelyn.” Madelyn paused at the door, glancing back at him, hopeful.
“Yes, sir?”
“Can you get me the contact information for Asha Patel, please.”
A look of confusion passed across Madelyn’s face. “Are you sure, sir? If you just ignore her, she’ll go away.”
That’s only a little bit of what Durand was afraid of. He didn’t want her to go away. He wanted her in his bed.
“Just her contact information, please.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.” Madelyn nodded and then headed out the door, her body language stiffer, her demeanor curt. Durand knew why, but he didn’t want to think about his assistant being jealous. Didn’t want to deal with her crush at the moment. After Madelyn quietly closed the door behind her, he walked over to the love seat and sank into it. He grabbed his tablet on the coffee table and began doing research on Asha. Objectively, she would be a fine fit for the Sphinx Society. She was no doubt prestigious enough, and she’d created her own cosmetics company, successful in its own right, though no company right now could be remotely as successful as her father’s Cloud. It owned most of the market share and seemed intent on gobbling up what was left.
The problem was that so many young, rich heirs like herself were so intent on their social media presence that Durand knew it rattled some of his more privacy-seeking members. The Sphinx Society prided itself on secrecy, after all. The masks were just one of the ways its members could mingle anonymously. The Society took its duty of keeping parties secret and its members’ identities secret a top priority. Social media sensations were all but barred from the gatherings. No one trusted them to keep the Society’s secrets.
Not that there were many to keep.
He didn’t run underground S&M dungeons, or secret meetings for powerful people to rule the world. This was simply a fun distraction, a way for members to feel safe and secure, to let go and have a good time. He pulled up images of Asha, and immediately felt a surge of lust run through him. She was gorgeous, yes, but why this pull? Why did he want her so very badly? He pulled up an image from one of her social media accounts. She was on the beach, wearing a barely-there bikini, her beautiful, perfect bronzed skin darker beneath the sun. The curves of her body made his own respond, as he remembered how soft she’d felt in his arms. How pliant. Willing. Eager.
Eager to play you, an inner voice told him. He couldn’t know whether she was really attracted to him or whether this was all a game to her.
He knew that, and yet, he still wanted her. Wanted her badly. He could feel his body stiffen, felt the urge to skim the fly of his own pants. Was he really considering pleasuring himself to this photo of her? Right here in his hotel room?
Maybe.
A message appeared on the screen of his tablet from his assistant, with Madelyn’s phone number and email.
Durand didn’t hesitate. He picked up his phone and dialed her number. He was shocked to discover that she answered on the second ring. Who answered their cell phones from unknown numbers, he wondered?
“Hello?” she said, and her voice, so smooth, like honey, reverberated through his lower abdomen. Even the woman’s voice was all sex.
“Ms. Patel,” he began. “This is Mathis Durand.”
A pause met him on the other end of the line. He wondered, bri
efly, if she planned to hang up on him. It was risky calling her like this. He knew it. He had, after all, rebuffed her advances the day before. Would she yell at him? Unleash her temper? Or would she be too curious?
“What can I do for you, Mr. Durand?” Her tone sounded guarded. So, curiosity won out, he thought. But she was holding yelling or hanging up in reserve. He could guess that much.
“I understand you’ve been calling my board,” he said. He stood and walked to the window of his suite. He watched a boat full of tourists sail down the Thames beneath the big white Ferris wheel.
“Does that trouble you?” The teasing note in her voice both irritated and aroused him at the same time. He fought within himself for control.
“No, Ms. Patel. You don’t trouble me. Not at all.” That was a lie. She troubled him quite a bit. In all the right ways. That was the problem. “I’m calling because I was wondering if you’d care to join me for dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?” she couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. Good. Keep her off balance. That was the only way to win. “And why would I do that?”
“I was hoping to discuss the possibility of your membership. Into the Sphinx Society.”
Asha went silent on the other end of the phone.
“What time?” she asked.
“Say 7 o’clock?”
“I think I could squeeze you in,” she said, barely able to keep the excitement from her voice. She did want a membership, and badly. He wondered why it meant so much to her and told himself he’d use this evening to find out. “Where shall we dine?”
“Society business can’t be discussed in public,” he said.
“Is that a rule?” The amusement was back in her voice.
“So, I’d suggest my hotel suite.”
“Would you now?” Durand realized too late that it sounded as if he planned a tryst in exchange for her membership. Which he wasn’t. This was no quid pro quo. He would never barter for sex. It was beneath him. He never asked for sexual favors. Hell, he never needed to.
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