by Nikki Sloane
It made sense. It’d probably be easier for Preston to get through his feelings if he didn’t have to see his dad every day, or at least live under the same roof.
“Shouldn’t I be the one to tell him?” He was my ex, and until recently, had been my best friend.
Greg shook his head. “I need to do it. He’s going to be . . . upset.”
“Do you want me there when you—”
“No. I’d like to explain it to him alone. That way he can focus on me instead of you.”
I tugged my eyebrows together and pressed my lips into a line. He wanted to spare me from Preston’s anger and take the blame, but that wasn’t fair. We hadn’t planned on getting involved, Greg and I had just . . . happened. I didn’t like him having to do this on his own, but he was older and wiser, not to mention Preston’s dad. Their relationship was the most important thing in Greg’s life. I had to trust him to know what was right.
“You’re sure?” I asked reluctantly.
“Yes.”
“Okay,” I said. “I don’t like it, but if you think that’s best—okay.”
He gave a slight smile. “Good. I’ll feel better when it’s done. No more hiding.”
I shot him a funny look. “Who’s hiding? You told someone you have a girlfriend. Who were you talking to?”
“Chief of surgery. I was asking him to clear my calendar for Wednesday.”
My breath caught, but I hoped he didn’t notice. Did he know? “What’s Wednesday?”
His expression was coy, and good lord, he was sexy as sin like that. “Someone’s birthday.” He dropped a quick kiss on my lips. “I should tell you, twenty is the worst birthday.”
I was stunned. Preston was terrible at dates and usually forgot. Even when he remembered, it felt like a last-minute scramble. He wasn’t one to look ahead in his calendar. But Greg? He probably had alerts programmed into his phone, and the idea that one of them included me made my heart flutter.
“Do you have plans?” he asked.
I draped my arms over his shoulders and pulled him close. “I do now.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Greg didn’t take me to the restaurant my mother had suggested, thankfully. We went to a fancy chef’s table place in Music Row, where the entire dining room consisted of long tables arranged in a square around the open kitchen. Diners sat on the outside, watching the show as the two chefs prepared the different courses and plated them to look like art.
The food was amazing, but the company at my side was even better. Greg wore a charcoal gray suit without a tie, and a white dress shirt with the top few buttons undone. He looked every bit the part of confident, rich doctor during the drive over in his BMW, his expensive wristwatch gleaming in the early evening sun.
I smoothed my palms down the floral dress I’d borrowed from Lilith, that was just a little too sexy and formal to call a sundress. The spaghetti strap top was simple black, cinched at the waist, but gave way to a flowing skirt patterned with cream-colored flowers. She’d also lent me a pair of gorgeous black heels, where the straps crisscrossed around my ankles and made me feel like a bombshell.
That was, until I was seated beside him in the car, heading toward dinner. My forty-year-old boyfriend was undeniably sexy, so what the hell was he doing with a barely twenty-year-old girl? I loved that he wanted to take me out, but I dreaded it at the same time. What kind of looks were we going to get from everyone at the restaurant?
Huh.
No one batted an eye at us.
Maybe my makeup and sexy dress gave me enough of an edge to look older. I had a fake ID in my purse I’d gone back and forth on bringing. Preston and I, along with a group of our friends, had bought them last semester from a shady website which I was certain was a scam, but a month later a package from China arrived at Preston’s dorm. An innocuous teddy bear with six expert fake IDs stuffed inside.
I didn’t get carded at dinner. Greg ordered a bottle of white wine and the server brought two glasses. As I sat at the table, a glass of sauvignon blanc in hand, watching the sizzling skillets and impressive knife skills on display, I felt like an imposter. I was a child pretending to be an adult, but as long as I faked it convincingly, no one but Greg would know.
His hand rested in my lap, and I was worried I was going to vibrate out of my seat. He was so comfortable with this. With being with me. I loved every freaking minute of it and did my best to look like I belonged with him. When it was just the two of us, I did, but out in public? That was going to take some getting used to.
Course after course was served, and although I wasn’t usually an adventurous eater, I ate every drop on the odd-shaped bowls and square plates, maybe even the garnish I wasn’t supposed to. Wine buzzed through my system, mixing with the powerful effect of his touch on my leg.
“How is he?” I finally asked, after the last course had been served. We’d avoided talking about Preston all evening, but I couldn’t put it off forever. He’d come back from North Carolina on Sunday, and tonight was the first time I was seeing Greg since his son had returned.
Greg’s expression shuttered. “He’s fine.”
The mood between us shifted faster than a rabbit bolting from a cage, and I struggled with how to get it back on track. “Uh, good. How were your rounds this morning?”
“I asked him to stay at a friend’s place tonight,” he announced quickly.
“Oh.” I hesitated. “Why?”
The hand on me moved. It slipped beneath the hem of the dress, so his palm brushed against the top of my thigh, and the bare skin contact sent a tinge of pleasure zipping to my center.
“Because,” Greg’s eyes darkened a shade, “I have something to give you.”
“What is it?”
“A surprise.”
I inhaled deeply, and anticipation thickened my blood. Whatever Greg had planned, he didn’t want Preston around for it, and I tried to curb my enthusiasm. It was a lost cause, though. It’d been five days since I’d seen my boyfriend, and my fantasies and my own hand only got me so far. I leaned over, mustered the most seductive voice I had, and whispered in his ear.
“I can’t wait.”
By the time Greg parked in the garage, my slight buzz from the wine had disappeared, and that was disappointing on multiple fronts. Walking in the ankle-breaking shoes was easier when I was distracted and not concerned about looking foolish.
Preston’s Jeep wasn’t in the garage, and Greg’s shoulders relaxed a degree. The tension I didn’t realize I was holding left my body too. He shut off the car, climbed from the seat, and hurried around the back end of the car to open the door for me. I took his offered hand and let him help me to my feet, where I teetered on the shoes.
“Thank you for dinner,” I said.
He stood so close, I breathed in his cologne, and tried not to swoon at the scent. His arm slipped around my waist. “You’re welcome. Let’s go inside so you can open your birthday present.”
He led me up the step into the house, but instead of taking me to the bedroom, I clip-clopped on my heels into the living room, where he sat me down on the couch. I gazed up at him, puzzled, but he just smiled and bent at the waist. He captured my face in his hands.
“This gift is kind of selfish, I’m sorry.” He caressed his lips over mine, moving too quickly to call it much of a kiss.
“What?”
“Hold on, you’ll see.” He released his hold and stood. “I’ll be right back.”
I watched him disappear down the hallway to his bedroom, and then I swallowed dryly. What was he about to give me?
When Greg reemerged, he was carrying a pale pink box tucked under an arm, and he wore an expression that was an even mixture of excitement and something that looked suspiciously like anxiety. He sank down beside me on the couch and gently set the apparel-sized box in my lap.
“Happy birthday, Cassidy.”
I cast my gaze down, and all the sound in the room faded out
.
The pink box had a black satin ribbon banded around one corner and tied in a bow in the other, and the words Agent Provocateur were scrawled in fancy script across the top.
“I hope it all fits.” His voice was uncharacteristically tight, and then dropped low. “It does in my fantasy.”
With nervous, excited fingers, I slipped the ribbon off a corner, opened the lid, and pulled the tissue paper back.
It was a bra, garter, and panty set of dusty pink tulle trimmed with black lace, and two stockings of luxurious black silk. I ran my fingers over the delicate lingerie, then slowly held the bra up to look at it closer.
“Do you like it?” he asked softly.
“It’s beautiful.” But the price tag dangling from the back was outrageous. “Greg, I can’t—”
“Oh, yes, you can. I told you this gift was selfish. It’s more for me than you.” His eyes gleamed with mischief. “I’ll send it back if it doesn’t fit, but there’s only one way to find out.”
I grasped the sides of the box, not sure what to do. I hadn’t seen the bill tonight at dinner, but it had to be a small fortune, and now this . . . I didn’t want a sugar daddy.
He must have sensed how uneasy all of this made me. He set a hand on my wrist. “There’s more that goes with that.”
“More?” I didn’t know how to feel about what he’d already given me. I mean, I liked it, but was I supposed to? Shouldn’t I feel uncomfortable about it? My mother had raised me to be polite and reject gifts that were too extravagant.
He smirked, and it looked utterly indecent. “You’ll like it, but you have to put that on to find out what it is.”
I swallowed a heavy breath while my gaze traced the intricate lace. I wanted this sexy lingerie and was excited to see how it would look on my body. Even if I demanded he return it, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t let go of the box when he tried to take it from me. But my curiosity was even greater. What else did he have planned?
“Trust me.” His words were laced with enough persuasion, my decision was made.
“Where should I change?” I stood, clutching the box in my hands, my palms clammy. I assumed he didn’t want me to do it in front of him—he’d want the big reveal.
“My bedroom.” His grin was enormous, lighting up his handsome face. “Come back out here when you’re ready.”
I carried my gift into his room, set it on the bed, and quietly shut the door. My heart pounded loudly in my ears as I eyed the box, and my face flushed hot, but I went to it, gripping the sides of my skirt in my hands to take off my dress. When it was done, I laid it gently on the bed, then undid the hooks of my strapless bra.
Every piece of the expensive lingerie he’d given me fit, but it took me a while to put it on. I moved painfully slowly, terrified of getting a run in the black stockings. I’d also never worn a garter belt before, and it took me a minute to figure out how to catch the top of my stocking in the clasp and lock it into place.
As I tugged the panties up over my thighs, a soft knock came from the bedroom door. “How we doing in there?”
I could picture the smile on his lips as Greg stood on the other side of the door.
“Good, but I need another minute,” I said. “So many straps,” I muttered under my breath.
When I had it all on, I stepped into the shoes Lilith had lent me, doing the delicate buckles around my ankles, then strutted into the bathroom where a full-length mirror hung on his closet door.
Jesus.
The pale pink mesh of the bra, panties, and garter belt matched my skin tone. It was see-through, so the coins of my darker nipples were faintly visible. In contrast, the black lace trim drew lines on my body, crisscrossing below my waist and leading down into the straps that held the black tops of my stockings up.
I peered at the girl in the mirror and barely recognized her. I wanted to be the brunette sex kitten who was staring back at me. Her legs looked long and beautiful wrapped in black silk and ended in those fuck-me stilettos. She wasn’t a teenager, she was in her twenties now, and she was about to walk out of this room, greet her boyfriend, and thank him properly for the evening.
It was darker in the living room than when I’d left it. He’d turned off the lights, but more than a dozen candles flickered around the room, from the side tables, the bookcases, and the fireplace mantel. They cast a warm glow in the space, and wavering shadows up onto the walls.
His sharp intake of breath pulled my attention away from the room and set it firmly on him. He was still wearing his fitted gray suit and was just as breathtaking to me as I seemed to be to him. My heart fumbled along in my chest as his gaze raked over me, taking in every inch of lace and tulle adorning my curves. His lips parted, like he was going to say something, but he only drew in another breath. His expression dripped with unabashed lust.
Finally, his broad shoulders straightened inside his suit coat, and Greg appeared to recover, although his voice was breathless. “You look fucking amazing.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. It was powerful when you felt good about how you looked. Almost like a drug, and hearing him confirm that magnified the effect. I couldn’t wait to have my hands on him. “What’s the other part of—”
It was then that I noticed it. In the low candlelight, I hadn’t realized there was a new addition in the room. One of the wooden, armless kitchen chairs had been brought in and placed on the rug in the center of the room. It was only a chair, but in my gut, I knew it was more, and anticipation wound tighter around me.
“Do you like it,” he said, “when I tell you what to do?” He took one confident step toward me, then another. “Is it one of your fantasies?”
Oh, lord. My blood sizzled. “Yes,” I gasped.
His pleased expression made my knees go weak. “I figured it was, because it’s mine too.”
“What’s the chair for?”
He didn’t take his gaze off me as he made his steady approach. He seemed to gain authority as he closed in. “That’s not important right now. Everything fits, right?”
My throat welled shut as he stood over me, his attention trapping me in place. I nodded slowly, transfixed by how dazzling his eyes were. Flecks of caramel mixed with rich mocha.
“Good. Turn around,” he commanded. “And hold still.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
I turned in place on my quivering legs, eager to follow Greg’s orders without knowing what they were about. There was rustling from behind me, and then his cool fingertips found the clasp of my bra—not to undo it, but to grasp the sales tag.
A snip rang out.
I held absolutely still as he methodically cut off the tags. When it was done, he set them and the pair of scissors on the bookshelf, ran his fingertips up the length of my spine, and leaned in until his chin rested on my shoulder.
“You’re going to be a good little girl and do everything I tell you to, aren’t you?”
Fire raced through my bloodstream. My eyes slammed shut, and I shivered at his delicious voice. “Yes, doctor.”
The heat of his body abruptly vanished, forcing my eyes open. I had my hands pressed to my thighs, willing myself to stay still and wait for his instruction, but the desire to chase after him was strong.
The chair that didn’t belong in this room creaked quietly as he sat in it. He settled for a moment before he spoke. “Come here.”
I went as fast as the heels on the rug would allow, but as soon as I was beside him, Greg’s hands ensnared my waist and positioned me before him. He walked me backward, taking me in once more with a sweeping, appreciative gaze. As soon as he had me placed how he wanted, he released me, sat back in the chair, and gripped the sides of the seat beneath him.
“I’m not going to touch you.” He declared it loudly, his voice ringing in the cavernous space, traveling up to the balcony of the second floor.
Anxiety ratcheted inside me. “What?”
“I’ve spent the last year wanting you, b
ut I wasn’t able to touch. Tonight, you’re going to see what that’s like.” His gaze drilled deep down into me. “You’re going to watch what you do to me.”
“I don’t understand,” I sputtered, shifting on my heels as I stood before him, only an arm’s length away.
“You know how many times I imagined you coming to me? How badly I wanted you to seduce me?” He rolled his shoulders back in the chair and widened his legs, getting comfortable in his seat. “That’s my ultimate fantasy, Cassidy.”
Oh. My. God. My chest tightened. “You want me to seduce you?”
The smile that curled across his lips was like the devil’s, and it was fucking hot.
But panic bubbled inside me. I didn’t know the first thing about seducing someone. He’d always been the one to initiate and take the lead. I floundered instantly, not sure what to do.
He’d asked me to trust him, so I should have known. Sitting motionless on the chair, his hands curled around the seat, he was still in power. He still held absolute control over me.
“I can see your nipples through that bra,” he said. “Are you turned on?”
How could I not be? It was a rhetorical question, but I dragged in a breath. “Yes.”
“Do you want me to touch them? Do they ache?”
“Yes,” I said through tight teeth.
“Then, use me.”
My hands hung listlessly at my sides, but I tensed them into fists as I struggled to keep up. “Use you?”
“You want my mouth on them?” He looked sinister and sexy in the flickering candlelight. “Come and show me what you want.”
In a snap, I understood.
He’d guide me through the scene when I needed it.
I stalked toward him, channeling the sex kitten from the mirror, and leaned over the chair, shoving my bra-clad breasts in his face. I snaked my hands around his head, pulling his mouth from one nipple to the other as he licked and suckled through the mesh, teasing me until the cups were damp.
A moan wrung from my lips as he nipped at me. Just the edge of teeth through the fabric was white-hot, and a sharp crack of pleasure whipped through my body. As I stood over him, letting his mouth rove over my sensitive skin, I felt powerful. He wasn’t just giving me pleasure—I was taking it.