by C. C. Gibbs
She grinned. ‘No band tonight?’
‘Any night, Katherine. Just say the word.’
‘How sweet, but I’m starved.’
‘Good. Me too. I had two sandwiches sent up but …’ A small shrug. ‘So any time you’re ready …’
He made a heads-up call to the kitchen while Kate quickly washed up in the bathroom, then he found her another robe – a magnificent padded silk bathrobe in azure silk, embroidered with pale yellow iris, wrapped her in it and carried her into the dining room.
‘I’m never going to leave if you keep being this nice to me,’ she teased as he stood in the doorway, surveying the flower-filled room, the table set for two, the lit candles, the chilling champagne.
He looked down at her and smiled. ‘That’s the idea. Now stand here for a minute.’ He set her on her feet near the door. ‘I’m going to move your chair closer to mine. You’re too far away at the other end of the table.’
‘Your floors are heated,’ she said, as he walked back. She wiggled her toes. ‘Nice.’
He smiled. ‘It’s all about comfort, babe.’ He took a small breath because she looked so sweet wiggling her toes that he wanted to lick her all over like candy. But he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to touch Miss Hart tonight. She needed some down time and he had plans for tomorrow. He took her hand. ‘Come on,’ he said gruffly, not used to self-denial. ‘Let’s eat.’
‘Now you’re mad at me.’
‘Hell no.’ A practised smile, a playful wink. ‘I just get grumpy when I’m hungry.’
After escorting her to a chair, he sat to her right at the head of the table. ‘Now, any requests other than what Deshi made for us?’
His simple meal included caviar on petals of potato salad, onion soup, coconut prawns, oven-roasted chicken with baby carrots, grilled Japanese Kagoshima beef with asparagus, cream puffs with strawberries and a poached cherry tiramisu.
‘Everything looks wonderful, but – oh never mind …’
‘Ask. They should be able to get you anything you want.’
‘I haven’t had milk for a couple days.’ She smiled. ‘Midwest, what can I say?’
‘Any special kind of milk?’ Don’t even think it, he warned himself, resisting the reflex jolt to his dick.
‘Really, I have a choice?’
He smiled. ‘Yes, really.’
‘Chocolate milk, then.’
He came to his feet. ‘I’ll be right back.’ He gestured at the food. ‘Please, help yourself.’
He could have raised his hand and someone would have appeared from behind the carved teakwood screen, but he didn’t want to spook Miss Hart, so he walked down the hall and opened the door into the butler’s pantry. His butler, Mr Smith, of indeterminate age but certifiable efficiency, and two of his many houseboys stood to attention. ‘I appreciate the discretion, Smith. We haven’t heard a sound from anyone. Miss Hart prefers her privacy, as I mentioned earlier. I’m here because she’d like some chocolate milk. Can we do that?’ He saw Smith swallow hard. ‘Problem?’
‘I’m sure we’ll manage something, sir.’
‘Do what you can. Perhaps we should bring in a supply from somewhere tomorrow.’ Cow’s milk wasn’t a staple in Asia. ‘Apologize to Deshi. It’s not something he could have anticipated. Buzz me when you have some. I’ll come get it.’ He smiled. ‘Thank you all.’ He turned back just short of the door. ‘Don’t forget the package from Leo. He said he’d have it delivered by midnight. I need it at breakfast.’
As soon as Dominic left, the butler picked up the phone and put the kitchen staff in an uproar.
Dominic walked back into the dining room. ‘The kitchen is going to see what they can do. But we’ll have some chocolate milk brought up tomorrow if they don’t have any on site. Ah … you’re trying the prawns. My favourite, although these are all’ – he waved his hand at the large array of food – ‘personal favourites. I didn’t want to wake you. Tomorrow, you order. In fact, order what you want for breakfast once we’re finished.’
They ate, they talked, they drank champagne, they luxuriated in a warm, quiet contentment nurtured by soft candlelight, perfumed air, the sweet aftermath of an afternoon of unalloyed pleasure and their own special brand of magic.
It was like a lush, romantic movie come to life, Kate thought.
Even Dominic recognized something was in the air. But he attributed the atmosphere to more pragmatic particulars: a sleepless night of mind-blowing sex, a long busy day of the same, a bottle or two of champagne, Leo’s excess of flowers – and of course the hot little puss beside him whom he’d jump if he could. But none of that was about romance, it was about fucking.
Kate’s chocolate milk arrived forty minutes later because it had taken that long for one of the staff to drive into the city and back. After she emptied the glass, it took all of Dominic’s self-control not to lean over and lick the small chocolate slick from her upper lip – the bewitching smear more erotic than the most blatant striptease. Correction: what was even more erotic was when she slid her tongue slowly over her upper lip and lapped up the chocolate residue.
At which point, he silently groaned, wrestled his libido to the ground and told himself that abstinence built character.
She needed a rest. He wasn’t a brute.
Accordingly, after dinner, he bathed Kate with the discipline of a eunuch, made excuses to her about being tired, carried her to bed, tucked her in, and held up the remote control. ‘TV while I take a quick shower?’
She was half asleep. ‘Some news. I’m losing track of the world.’ She smiled. ‘Not that I’m complaining. You’re super-charming. I’m sorry you’re tired.’
‘I’ll be fine by morning.’ He found Sky News, set the remote near her hand. ‘Five minutes, I’ll be back.’
It was the fastest shower he’d ever taken, but then he’d never had Miss Hart waiting in his bed. Minutes later, he walked back in, wiping his wet hair with a towel and came to a sudden stop. He really had been too hard on her. She was fast asleep.
Turning off the TV, he climbed into bed, gathered her into his arms and gave himself points for being virtuous.
Kate sighed, snuggled closer to Dominic in insistent small nudges and as his arms tightened around her, her breathing slowed again, deepened into sleep.
Dominic gently kissed the top of her head, listened to her breathing, felt her soft warmth against his skin, lay still in the dark, asking himself questions he’d never asked before.
About the high rush of happiness, swift and frail. About flirting with hope. About chances. About the wild surging in his blood he’d never felt before.
All because of a slip of a woman with red curls and bright green eyes.
CHAPTER 18
Dominic woke early, slowly eased away from Kate and, taking care not to wake her, slid off the bed. Walking into his dressing room, he put on a pair of grey sweats and exited the room by the hall door.
Entering his study a few minutes later, he sat at his desk, hit the space bar and watched his computer come to life. Another few clicks of the keyboard and there it was: all the MIT grants. He scrolled through Bill Vandevore’s email looking for a name … looking … looking … looking – bingo. He picked up the phone, unconcerned with the time stateside. His employees were paid well enough to answer his calls day or night.
It was a brief call, Bill Vandevore understood what was required of him without a lengthy explanation. ‘I don’t need him eliminated from the project,’ Dominic said. ‘Just see that he’s sent to Greenland on the core-drilling team. Increase his fellowship by forty thousand. That should sweeten the assignment.’
‘Yes, sir, Mr Knight.’
‘Discreetly.’
‘That goes without saying, sir.’
‘I appreciate your understanding.’
‘My pleasure, sir.’ Bill Vandevore was in charge of a very large budget with little oversight. It was a dream job. He might have even agreed to send his mother to Greenland if Domini
c had asked because Knight Enterprises paid him enough to keep her there in five-star comfort. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’ he asked, underlining the name he’d written down.
‘Not at the moment.’ There was still Michael, but he hadn’t been calling so he was currently safe from Dominic’s displeasure. ‘You’ll deal with this promptly?’
‘Today, sir.’
‘Excellent.’
Dominic leaned back in his chair after he hung up the phone and felt his pulse slow. He softly exhaled, satisfied the issue had been resolved. Then he sat up, deleted Bill Vandevore’s email from the cache, double-checked his password was in place, and shut down his computer. Picking up the house phone, he spoke to Deshi and Smith, delivered several brisk directives, thanked them, replaced the receiver in the cradle and smiled.
It should be a very nice day.
When he returned to the bedroom, Kate was walking out of the bathroom naked and brushing her hair with Dominic’s hairbrush. ‘This isn’t really working,’ she said, holding up the short-bristled brush.
Now that’s the way he liked to start his day: with Miss Hart smiling at him, her voluptuous body on full display. ‘Yours must be here somewhere. Leo sent over everything.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s a short-term fix. Are we going to eat soon?’ Climbing back into bed, she grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV.
Miss Hart’s casual domesticity shouldn’t have surprised him; she didn’t stand on ceremony. She never would have considered finding some lacy nightgown, or putting on make-up for him like so many women. Her hair was unruly; she didn’t feel the need to flirt or seduce. She only wanted to know when they were going to eat breakfast. This morning scene made him want to smile – it was so ordinary. ‘We forgot to order last night so I hope I got you something you like. They’re bringing up our breakfast now.’ He walked to the dresser. ‘What do you want to play today?’
She glanced away from the TV screen, gave him a blank look. Then his question registered belatedly and she grinned. ‘Why ask me, Svengali?’
He grinned back. ‘Definitely a user-friendly answer.’
‘Depends on who’s using whom. I figure I’m using your really big dick for my own personal pleasure, so we’re about even. Is that too blunt?’ she said with fake, wide-eyed innocence.
‘I’ll let you know if I’m ever in the mood for niceties,’ he drawled and went back to opening drawers.
‘What do you think of this?’ he asked a moment later, holding up a sheer black bra. ‘I seem to be on some bizarre baby psychic wave. I don’t know whether to blame my mother for bringing up the subject or you for your big tits. Although I must not be the only one who plays this game if Mrs Hawthorne is selling these little numbers.’
Kate turned from the TV news. ‘Is that a nursing bra? She sells nursing bras?’
‘Along with several other play themes. I’ll show you the schoolgirl white cotton bra and panties later, and the harem outfit.’
‘I didn’t see those.’
‘You only tried on a few, Mrs Hawthorne said. You were being difficult. Shocking, I know,’ he said with a grin. ‘So yes or no?’ He lifted the bra a fraction higher.
She smiled. ‘What do they usually say?’
A trifling shrug. ‘I don’t usually ask.’
‘So I’m special.’
‘In every conceivable way, Katherine. So, what’ll it be?’
She slowly, ostentatiously, stretched, gave him a flirty look. ‘Will I like it?’
‘You will,’ he said, controlling the impulse to fuck her on the spot after that cock-teasing stretch.
‘Will it be as good as yesterday?’ she purred.
He liked that she was prodigal in play. ‘Better. I have a new toy for you.’
‘Now there’s incentive,’ she said, sweetly.
‘You’ll be able to come whenever you want with the toy. How’s that for incentive?’
She clicked off the TV and jumped from the bed, her breasts still jiggling from her leap as she walked towards him.
She pointed as his erection surged under his sweats. ‘I think he likes me.’
He smiled. ‘Every minute of every day. But we’re going to have breakfast first. You have to wait for your new toy. Hold out your arms.’
She blew him a kiss then lifted her arms.
A few minutes later, they were at the breakfast table. The flowers had been changed, various shades of yellow glowed in the morning light.
‘I suppose the bedroom flowers will be different when we return.’
‘I don’t know. We’ll see.’
She grinned. ‘Have you no control over your staff?’
‘Not much,’ he lied. ‘Coffee first? I see chocolate milk in that pitcher.’
‘Coffee, please. I love when you serve me.’
‘As do I when you serve me,’ he said, glancing at her, wilful intent in his gaze.
Defenceless against his pointed look, as willing as he was wilful, she softly groaned. ‘Oh, God, don’t start,’ she whispered as a flutter of arousal shimmered deep inside her. ‘I have to eat first.’
He smiled. ‘Don’t you always. Fortunately my ego is resilient. Those are yours.’ He pointed to three domed plates.
Two quick calming breaths and she lifted the first silver cover. An omelette.
‘It has lobster in it. I hope you eat shellfish. Open the other one.’
Having been distracted by the food, she lifted the second cover with more composure. A beautifully displayed petite bacon sandwich cut in small triangles lay on a bed of creamy slaw.
‘Did I do well? One last one,’ he said, gesturing at the third covered plate.
Kate lifted the lid. Three truffles were set inside a diamond tennis bracelet.
‘Thank you for yesterday,’ he quietly said.
‘It’s too much.’ She picked up the bracelet. ‘This is too much.’ Each stone was at least a carat.
‘It’s not nearly enough,’ he casually replied. ‘Now eat. I know you’re hungry.’
‘I’ll argue later.’
He grinned. ‘I like when you argue.’
‘Because it always ends with sex.’
‘That must be why.’ He lifted his coffee cup. ‘To a pleasant day.’
He had salmon just as he’d had the day before, an omelette with some kind of sausage and peppers, fried potatoes, a fruit plate like hers, a bowl of spicy noodles and some buns stuffed with a meat mixture. Kate ate a bite of each when he offered it to her. ‘Diversify your tastes,’ he said, coaxing her to try each item. ‘It’s a big world out there.’
‘I like this cosy one.’ She surveyed the small room that opened on the courtyard, the morning light wintry and pale, the scent of roses drifting on the air. ‘I like when we’re alone.’
‘Speaking of alone, that reminds me,’ he said, pulling her birth control pod from his sweats pocket and setting it on the table. ‘Should I give you one or not? Do we want to add to this small company? Should we discuss it?’
‘There’s nothing to discuss.’ Pithy and direct.
He paused for a moment, then ignoring her comment, said, ‘Why don’t we decide later. Take off your robe now.’ An infinitesimal lift of his brow. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘And if I do mind?’
A fraction of a second. ‘Take it off anyway.’
A small, chafing glance, a snappish note in her voice. ‘You’re lucky I’m willing to play your games.’
‘Very willing, I’d say.’
She flushed under his insolent gaze. ‘I want one of those pills later,’ she said, determined to put some limits on what she would allow him.
‘I heard you the first time.’
‘I know what you’re doing and you can just stop this ultimate control shit.’
‘Make me,’ he softly said.
‘It’s not a game, Dominic.’
‘Everything’s a game, babe. Business, life, fucking.’ He smiled. ‘But any game with you is extra s
pecial. And yes, I am lucky, very lucky that you like to play. Now would you please take off your robe. I’d be very grateful.’
‘I should say no.’ But her body was already responding to the deep, rich cadence of his voice, to the vivid heat in his eyes, to the soft, insistent command, to the high-testosterone signals of latent male power.
‘Please don’t.’ It was a warning, no matter how softly uttered.
A shiver of arousal went through her at the threat in Dominic’s voice. She fidgeted restlessly against the instant, cruel desire, the wild, subversive need, the willingness to be corrupted by his capacity for mastery. ‘It’s unnerving,’ she whispered, gripping her chair arms as though to resist. ‘Wanting you this much. Craving you. Losing my reason because of you.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting pleasure,’ he murmured.
She took a deep breath. ‘Even if it takes over your life?’
‘Even then,’ he said gently, glancing at her white knuckles. ‘Do you need help with your robe?’
He knew, he always did. She shook her head and began untying the belt. Dominic had found her another quilted silk robe this morning, celadon green, warm. For winter, he’d said, wrapping it around her shoulders. It fitted perfectly, like the other one; she hadn’t asked why. She told herself she should ask, she shouldn’t so easily fall under his spell. But she didn’t do either. Instead, she freed the belt, slipped the robe from her shoulders and sat before him in only the sheer black silk bra.
‘I don’t know, Katherine,’ he softly murmured. ‘When you look like that – your ripe tits ready for nursing like you’re already knocked up – I’m not really sure I feel like giving you your birth control pill.’ The nursing bra left a portion of her breasts exposed. Her turgid nipples and rosy areolas were framed in sheer black silk, her breasts lifted high under the taut straps, the blatant display inspiring rash behaviour in a man who’d always viewed himself as an arch pragmatist. ‘If you were nursing my baby, you’d have to share those tits with me.’ Dominic’s voice was low, his gaze audacious, his cock rock hard and aching. ‘We’d have to put that in writing.’ He crooked one finger. ‘Come here.’ He pointed at a spot beside his chair. ‘We’ll discuss your birth control.’ Perhaps Katherine was right. Perhaps this was the ultimate control. He could possess her in the most primal, selfish way, make her pregnant, maybe even ignore the practicalities of his life and her and keep her. Make sure that he got his share of those tits.