Unlaced

by Jaci Burton

  “No,” she said. “It’s not a draw. I’d call that one a point for your side, Mr. Adler.”

  Lucas inclined his head, giving her some small gratification at the flash of surprise, followed by respect, in his face. But what did he have to lose? Of course the bastard could control his lust, despite the fact he’d gotten no relief. After all, he could ravish a woman in his own office if he wanted to do so. Despite his protests to the contrary, he probably had sex on a nightly basis with any one of the women the social registers reported him escorting, another less welcome fact she’d gleaned from the online search.

  She would have to accept Lucas’s challenge for tomorrow, because her reputation had to stay intact. Everything had to stay intact. The way to beat him was to walk away without a hair out of place, no matter what claw-and-scream-herself-hoarse orgasm he managed to wrest from her. If she could do that, it would be another victory for her self-control. Another notch for her very lonely bed.

  Matt and the rest of the team had somehow slipped out of the room, leaving her and Lucas facing each other. Disconcerted, not sure how they’d managed that, unless her mind was deep in places it shouldn’t be, she rose, sliding on her jacket.

  “Cassandra, you did well today.”

  “Why, thank you. Your approval makes me all a-flutter.”

  His lips did that sensual twist, the precursor to a smile. “You’ll honor our bet.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “A lot of women would try to back out when they’re this scared.”

  “I’m not scared of you.”

  As he rose from the table and came around it, Cassandra stayed still to prove it, though her pulse rate increased. The situation called for a catty response, followed by a saunter out of view. A quick saunter. When she looked at him, she recalled tigers on the Discovery Channel about to leap on a herd of gazelles. Those tigers had the same deceptively relaxed movement he had now. It aroused her, just the idea that they might be about to cross blades some more. Fencing, dancing, even board negotiations—they were all forms of sex, done right. But while she’d used sex appeal as one of her weapons, she’d always kept sex out of the equation. With Lucas, she didn’t think that could be an option. The challenge in his eye thrilled her.

  “You got what you wanted today because it was reasonable. Not because I was female and overwhelmed by the K&A charm.”

  He kept moving, didn’t respond or engage until he reached her. She stood in the doorway. Behind her was a hall that was a short walk to the admin’s office. She could hear Matt and the team talking. As far as she knew, they were speaking gibberish, for Lucas laid an arm against the frame, leaning into her so her back came against it, straight and rigid as her own stance.

  “I’d agree with that. I’d also agree you’re not afraid of me, not on the surface.” His fingers touched her cheek, slid along the corner of her mouth, reminding her of the tie’s restraint, then on to the line of her chin, so she lifted it. Keeping his eyes on hers, he let his fingers descend, stroke her throat, using one light knuckle, making her lift her chin further. “Underneath, there’s so much going on. You’re an orchestra. A slight breath, a flush to your skin.” His lips were just over her right cheekbone, an inch or so from her mouth, his breath touching her. His body, so close. “You’re all about control. Denial. It’s enough to drive the man who wants to dominate you fucking insane.”

  “No man controls me.”

  “I didn’t say control. A man who sexually dominates a woman, who demands her submission, does so to free her. Lets her fully embrace the passion and need locked inside of her.”

  His finger was cruising down her sternum, moving at the pace of a boat floating down the Mississippi, baking the occupant in a lazy summer sun. He slipped the top button of her blouse. She could hear Matt speaking to Alice, his assistant. Jon, Peter, and Ben were still with him. She should shrug away, slap Lucas’s face, but his finger was caressing the cleft between her lifted and compressed breasts, teasing her nerve endings as powerfully as his words.

  “Let’s test that control.” Lucas murmured it. “Lift your chin as high as you can and hold it there for ten seconds. Then you can push me away, slap my face, whatever’s going through that incredibly ordered brain of yours.”

  She swallowed, and his thumb, resting on her larynx, sent him that unsettling message. But she averted her face, tilting her chin so she could see the wall clock in the board room behind them. “Clock’s ticking,” she said.

  Breathe slow, breathe even. Breathe shallow. Stand straight. Don’t writhe. Within her laced regimen of behavior, she could handle one arrogant bean counter. What kind of accountant looked like this? There should be a hidden camera somewhere, a TV show prank. What kind of accountant . . . could do . . . that?

  Bracing his other arm so she was caged between them, Lucas had put his head down and brought his lips to the raised mounds. The tip of his tongue slid into the deep cleft. A teasing lick between the folds, barely touching ultrasensitive flesh, like a raindrop rolling down that tender crevice. His hair brushed her chin, her body somehow now canted into his so she could feel the pressure of it. All she had to do was lift her hands to slide across his broad shoulders, or put them inside the coat, to grip him at the waist. She’d seen that hard, lean body almost naked, knew what was concealed beneath the clothing.

  Breathe. Slow. Even. Stay in control.

  She pushed him away. Slap, hell. She punched him, though she was careful to choose the jaw and not the elegant nose or sweep of cheekbone.

  Fire coursed through his gaze. For a blink, their deceptively civilized surroundings vanished and she thought he was going to wrest control from her, master her in truth. Take her down and fuck her right here on the carpet as a double-edged punishment. God help her, her response to the thought, the shameful need which she could feel trickling down her thigh, was just there waiting, making her even weaker.

  But he brought himself under control. One corner of his mouth lifted. “Nice jab. So who do you think won this round?”

  She wanted to touch where his lips had been on her breasts. She thought if she did, she would come, just from bringing their two energies together like that. Her pussy was beating insistently, as if it had its own heart. It knew exactly what it wanted, unlike the higher, supposedly more sophisticated, organ.

  “I pushed you away in ten seconds. I’d say the round is definitely mine.”

  “I’ll let you have that, because I wasn’t watching the clock.” He leaned back against the opposite side of the doorframe now, which put her standing between the stretch of his long legs. “But if you make yourself come between now and the next time we see one another, the round will go to me. Because I’ll know whom you’re thinking about as you’ve got your fingers in yourself. You won’t use a vibrator.”

  “Vibrators are far more efficient to deal with a passing urge,” she said, tossing her head. “Basic need fulfillment.”

  He nodded. “They are. But you’ll use your fingers, sink them deep in your pussy, because you’ll want the warmth of human flesh. Because you’ll want to imagine it’s me.”

  “Get over yourself,” she advised, and stepped, graceful as a gazelle, over his polished shoes. As she headed down the hall, she knew she was fortunate not to have tripped and fallen, since her legs were less than steady.

  “Cassie, your blouse.”

  She gave it a dismissive glance. He’d opened one additional button, so only the leading edge of the satin cups of the corset was visible, though of course, what was most noticeable above that were her breasts, the glimpse of cleavage considerably expanded. Still, it wasn’t porn, white trash level. It was as much as she might show if she was headed from the office to a night club to meet clients. It was way after five, after all.

  “I don’t have a problem with your boys getting the same view you got, seeing as they’re not going to get a piece of it either.”

  Shouldering her briefcase strap, she kept going. And was brought up
short one step later as he clamped down on her arm, turned her so her back was flat against the wall. His eyes might have beautiful doll’s lashes. He might be an accountant. But the dangerous expression in his face left no doubt he was a man, and a lot bigger and stronger than her. It made her breath catch in her throat, a sound of desire, and of course, damn it all, he saw it.

  “You like the fact I can overpower you, don’t you, Cass? That I don’t let you get away with your freeze-out routine.”

  “Get off,” she snapped. Even as it occurred to her that control was a very fine line when one was in the ring with a lion, with no whip or chair in reach.

  “As far as your blouse goes, I have a problem with it.” His fingers brushed the tops of her breasts, making her bite her lip, which did nothing to control the shiver still rocketing through her. Sliding the button closed again, he smoothed his hands down the front of the blouse, over the tightly bound curves, her rib cage, to settle on her hips. He brushed his lips over hers. “Do you smell yourself on my mouth? Just a faint trace from hours ago?”

  When she closed her eyes, his lips moved to her nose, her temple. “You like the challenge of me, Cass, but you’re afraid to enjoy it. You don’t want there to be anything in your life you can’t control.”

  “I’m not a child, Lucas. There are things beyond my control. Beyond anyone’s control.”

  “But not your reaction. That’s what the corset’s about. To remind you that the rest of the world may be out of control, but you never will be.”

  Cassandra opened her eyes, stared up at him. “Is that what you enjoy, Lucas? Kicking in people’s doors, just to see if you can? I guess destroying mine gives you a real charge, doesn’t it?”

  His brow creased. “Cassie, what—”

  “My name is Cassandra, you arrogant ass.” She pushed him, hard enough that she was able to take advantage of his surprise and jerk away. It may not have been the smoothest retreat, but it was a swift one. She made it to the relative safety of the admin area before he could catch up.

  She was safe from him here. She just wasn’t sure if she was safe from her vibrating body, her own dark urges, or her aching, confused heart.

  Matt was signing some documents his admin had apparently left for him at her desk. Peter was sprawled, relaxed on the couch, tie already loosened, while Jon stood talking to him.

  Steady. Next chess move. Remarshalling her strategy, Cass painted on a cool smile, extended a hand to Matt. “I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Mr. Kensington.”

  He straightened and took it. She ignored the gooseflesh that his brief grip sliding over her skin gave her. Her hormones were in overdrive and Kensington was just too damned attractive. Like all of them. Despite the pheromones that radiated from his every gesture, she was pleased that at no time had she detected anything suggesting he wasn’t entirely faithful to his wife. Of course, ironically, that would just enhance his appeal to women.

  “And you, Miss Moira. Though you’re welcome to call me Matt.”

  “Thank you, but I find it best to keep business relationships on that level. It ensures professionalism and keeps our minds on getting the job done.”

  “It certainly does,” he responded with a cryptic smile.

  Turning, Cass found Lucas in the hall doorway, hands in the pockets of his slacks, tawny hair falling over his forehead, enhancing the intent eyes. Tear the dress shirt open down the front, loosen the tie, and he could be a calendar pinup. A package that screamed sex, particularly the way he was studying her, calculating the meaning behind her every word and movement, figuring out how to dismantle everything she’d tried to build for herself. Oh, yeah. She was going to have to hang in there, keep matching him, even as there was a part of her that wanted to run away or worse—not fight at all. Then she recalled his infuriating words about her, about why she wore the corset.

  Think you know everything about me, Lucas? See if you predicted this.

  She turned to Ben. “Mr. O’Callahan, will you let me take you to dinner? Mr. Johnson would like to show his appreciation of your expeditious handling of the legal obstacles.”

  If Ben was surprised by the offer, he didn’t show it. Giving her a sexy Irish smile, he plucked her light overcoat off the coat rack by Alice’s desk. “A business dinner that doesn’t end up on Matt’s tab. How can I refuse?”

  She nodded. As he helped her into the coat, she delayed freeing her hair from the collar. As she expected, Ben loosed it, his hands sweeping it from beneath, knuckles brushing her neck as he let the clipped tail tumble down her right breast. While his touch produced an erotic ripple on her nape, she resented that the power of it seemed to come from the memory of Lucas’s lips there, the way he’d pushed her into climax a month ago.

  “Just dinner,” she added with a smile. “I don’t mix business with pleasure. While we’re doing business, of course.”

  “Ah, a carrot to get this deal closed as quickly as possible. I love a manipulative woman. I’ll see if I can get Lucas and Matt to hurry this all along, so I can find out if you’re bluffing.” Ben grinned.

  “Good night, gentlemen.” She allowed him another practiced smile, the right amount of distance and warmth combined, promising nothing, and nodded to Matt, Jon, and Peter. Then she shifted over to Lucas. “Until tomorrow, Mr. Adler.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you were here at eight. So we can take care of the preliminary details we discussed. Don’t be late.”

  She noted the clipped edge to his words, and how his attention was on Ben’s hand, resting at the small of her back, a bit low. If his little finger dropped a millimeter, she suspected it would be on the top of her buttock. Giving her the temptation of more, with the most discreet of contacts. They must practice this. Keeping business and pleasure separate on the surface, but making it impossible for a woman to conduct the former without thinking of the latter.

  She shrugged, nodded. Later tonight she’d dissect her strategy for tomorrow. For now, she just wanted to be away from him, where her pussy didn’t vibrate like a damn dinner bell every time he spoke, or leveled those eyes on her. Of course, that made her remember his earlier offer of dinner. What would it be like to take him to dinner, then take him home? Wake up with his smell around her, her face buried in his throat, body resting against the hard chest? Feel the cool metal of his medallion against her temple?

  Maybe in this situation, cowardice was disguised wisdom. Maybe she should be late tomorrow.

  As Ben guided her out the door, he threw an enigmatic expression over his shoulder. When it closed after them, silence reigned for a long moment. Peter glanced at Jon. Jon looked toward Matt, who was studying the stone passive face of his CFO.

  “If you wait too long, Ben will drive off with her,” he observed at last, sitting down on the desk.

  “No, he won’t. He’ll stall at his car, if he values his balls.” Lucas directed his next comment toward Peter and Jon. “I may have need of the three of you tomorrow on this. If you can wait a few moments, I’ll come back and explain the details shortly.” His gaze shifted. “Matt, it’s probably best if you’re not privy to it.”

  “One of the very few drawbacks to being married,” Matt noted, but shook his head. “I’ll take the risk. I’d like to hear the discussion. We’ll wait on you. I assume you’ll bring Ben back up with you. Intact, if you don’t mind.”

  Lucas gave a feral smile and slid out the door. Once out of sight, he took the stairs, glad for carpeted hallways to mask the sound of sprinting feet. As well as for the shape he was in, so he wouldn’t be wheezing like an asthmatic once he got to the parking deck.

  As he expected, Ben did have her at his Mercedes McLaren Roadster, in its assigned place in the parking deck. He was propped against the car door, about two steps too close to her as he gestured through the opening of the parking deck at the building across the way. Probably explaining how Savannah worked at that building, or some other smooth lawyer talk.

  There’d been no prearrangement
to Ben’s delay. Lucas knew he’d still be here, just as he knew what was said about the five of them, both informally as well as in the many articles that had been written. That they were in tune with one another like a wolf pack. However, someone else had called them the Knights of the Board Room, because they had an unbreakable honor code when it came to business associates, community giving. But the code was much more personal than that. Ben knew Lucas had marked Cass as his. As well as he knew what her power play was about and, being a gentleman, had played along. A little too enthusiastically for Lucas’s tastes, but then Ben did like to yank his chain. Lucas made a mental note to have Jon mix up the numbers this month so it looked as if Legal was about 200 percent over their annual budget.

  “Lucas,” Ben straightened from the car, arching a brow. “Is there a problem?”

  “Matt needs us all upstairs. Something just came up at the Seattle plant. I would have buzzed you, but your cell apparently doesn’t work in the parking garage.”

  “I think I must have turned it off. Wanted to give my full attention to a beautiful woman.” He turned to Cassie. She was doing an excellent job looking unperturbed by the disruption. Good enough that Lucas wanted to toss away the briefcase she was holding in front of her and lay her out on the hood of Ben’s disgustingly expensive car. Wipe every act off her face except the truth of her own desire and sexual nature, a match for his own.

  “My apologies. Some other time.” When Ben picked up her hand and gallantly kissed her knuckles, his hand curled over her wrist and palm so that as he pulled away, his fingers slid along her pulse. It never failed to elicit a shudder, and even Cass was no exception. It had to be an involuntary reflex, Lucas reflected darkly. Kind of like smashing a hammer into someone’s knee.

  He gave Ben a tight, I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass smile, which Ben returned with an anytime-you-feel-lucky glint in his eye.