Strictly Confidential

by Lynda Aicher

  She set her phone on the bar. “There.” She folded her hands on her lap. “No more work.” The challenge was leveled back at him in her tone, the “what now?” included in her expression.

  “That’s a start.” He indicated her phone but didn’t expand even though she clearly expected him to.

  Calculation marched through her eyes before she shook her head, looking to the TV. Her thoughts and emotions were masked behind her blank expression, a skill he recognized. Where had she learned it? Why? Eight years as an Army officer had honed it into him, but her…

  A couple of men took the seats next to her, their attention lingering as they sat. He stared at them, annoyance building until the closest one noticed. The man’s knowing smirk contained a silent apology before he turned away.

  She twisted in her seat, turning her back to the two men. “Kennedy,” she stated, hand extended, waiting.

  He grasped her hand, welcoming her firm grip that said assertive but not aggressive. “Matt.” The foreign knot in his chest loosened as he shoved back the protective rush that’d had him staking a claim where he had no right.

  “Nice to meet you, Matt.”

  “Likewise.”

  She released his hand, yet her touch lingered with an impression of warmth. His stomach tightened, desire spreading in a slow build that buzzed over his skin and teased him with possibilities.

  “What do you do?” she asked, reaching into her suit pocket.

  He stalled her hand at the first sign of her business card. “Nope,” he said. “No work.” She hesitated. “We’re relaxing, remember?” He could’ve—should’ve—moved his hand away, but he left it resting on hers, almost daring her to object.

  She didn’t. And that set off a whole different reaction tied to behavior he’d long abandoned—for good reasons.

  That tempting smile of hers returned as she slid her card back into her pocket. “All right. I’ll play.”

  Play. He clenched his hand, letting it fall to his lap. The word launched a slew of images that had nothing to do with the innocent way she’d applied it. It took very little to envision her panting beneath him, hands tied over her head, her soft pleas urging him on.

  He cleared his throat, washed the ache down with his beer. Nothing good would come of going down that road. But the yearning still lingered, taunting him with what-ifs and why not? It prickled over his skin and pulled dual strings on the control he maintained and longed to wield.

  “Tell me, Matt.” The emphasis on his name came with a quirk of her lips. “Do you relax in a bar often?”

  He held back the sarcastic scoff that raced up. “No.” Bars required free time, which he rarely had. “Not usually. You?”

  “Only at events like this. Or,” she conceded, “when I need to be seen as one of the guys.”

  The overabundance of men in the now-crowded room emphasized her point. It also highlighted that the most beautiful woman in the bar was sitting beside him, and she had zero chance of being classified as one of the guys.

  “But then that’d be work,” he countered, the buzz intensifying to a firm want that simmered and built the more he talked to her.

  Her smile flashed again. “True.”

  “So it doesn’t count.” He caught the eye of the bartender and motioned for another round. She didn’t object or comment, instead sending him a slightly secret, slightly coy smile before she lowered her gaze.

  He managed to keep his groan silent despite the bevy of images that assaulted him. How much control would she surrender? How far would she let him go? How far did he dare let himself go?

  “Then how do you normally relax?” She studied him now with a directness that countered any hints of complacency.

  His lips quirked. A quick hand job probably wasn’t the answer she was looking for. “I run, for one,” he said instead. A habit he’d kept since the service.

  She wrinkled her nose, the action cute when combined with her freckles. “I could never get into running.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head. “I never found that magic plateau people talk about where it becomes invigorating instead of awful.”

  He scanned her, confirming what he already knew. Her breasts strained against her blouse, the faint impression of her bra teasing him with lace and secrets. Her waist was trim, legs long. She was fit and most likely sexy as hell beneath her suit.

  He swallowed, his interest escaping when he looked up. “Then what do you do?”

  Her quick inhalation ignited the connection between them. “I walk. Play tennis. Golf.” Her shrug was as much tease as dismissal. “Among other things.” Her eyelids dipped, her throaty undertone launching a whole new stream of dirty thoughts.

  His dick took note, urging him to take the bait she unabashedly dangled. But to what end? He had nothing to offer her past this night. And he was making leaps she hadn’t asked for.

  “Do you come to a lot of these?” he asked, changing the topic while he still could. He motioned to the room in general to indicate the convention.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “More than I’d like, but it’s part of my job. I—”

  “Nope.” He cut her off. “No work.”

  “But—”

  He swiveled his head when she started to object, holding firm to his directive. Information led to expectations, which he couldn’t have, let alone give to her.

  “You’re tough,” she stated, but her scowl held no heat.

  That was all it took to have that old urge racing forward, demanding he show her just how tough he could be. His shoulders drew back as the power filled him. It flooded his chest and triggered a wave of memories unleashed by his latent control kink. The one he’d denied since his wife had walked out, seeking more than he could give and leaving their two kids behind.

  She turned away to take her new drink from the bartender, unaware of how close he was to ditching every rule, every restriction, every self-imposed mandate he’d laid down over a decade ago.

  “Thank you.” She shot him a smile as she squeezed the lime into her gin and tonic. “For the drink.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” he said, exchanging his empty glass for the full one. His casual pretense did nothing to calm the lust and longing that was slowly silencing his will. “In the interest of relaxing.”

  “Of course. Relaxing.” Her nod was slow and cunning. “But there are other ways to do that.” Mischief gleamed in her stunning eyes.

  That confidence, that directness, that lack of pretense or the typical over-flirty games was too damn alluring. Her strength pulled him in, tempting him to take what she offered. That awareness sunk beneath his skin to entwine with his darkest wants.

  He let her implication hang between them on the sultry note it was before he finally said, “There are.”

  Lust flowed into her expression, her lips parting before she closed them to swallow. “Can I ask you something?” That tiny frown line appeared between her brows. He stilled, his defenses going up on habit. “This is purely to further define the boundaries,” she clarified.

  A lightness was back in her voice, but it didn’t change the weight of her words. He narrowed his eyes, assessed. “What boundaries?”

  “Between us.” She motioned between them before studying his ring finger. “Are you married or attached?” Her gaze was firm when it landed on him.

  His smile grew without his consent. The boldness worked for her. “No.” He left it at that.

  “No,” she restated, smiling slightly. “Can I ask why?”

  He inhaled, debated his response. “Time. Desire.” He dismissed those with a lift of his shoulder. The real answer went too deep for a simple discussion at the bar with a woman he’d just met. “What about you?” he countered, pointedly looking to her left hand.

  She wiggled her fingers before him, all of them bare. “No.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  “Time. Desire,” she mimicked, that humorous tone carrying to her expression.
<
br />   He looked away before his gaze dropped to the inviting curve of her lips. Yet he could still picture the arch and dip, imagine the feel of them beneath his own, on his skin, kissing down—

  “Are you here with others?” He tossed out, scanning the room, noting every man who studied her. He was playing with fire and couldn’t get himself to pull back.

  “A couple of sales guys, yes.”

  “And they’re where?”

  “At another hotel.” Her tone was as steady as her gaze. She was on the same track as him and had no qualms about letting him know. “I like the distance.”

  “They’re that bad?”

  “No. Not at all.” She let that rest for a beat before adding, “I just value my freedom.”

  Like the freedom to engage with a man she’d just met in a bar? The freedom to be direct about her interest? The freedom to go up to his room and let him do the explicit things to her that refused to leave his thoughts?

  Kennedy presented an opportunity, one he longed to accept. She was openly seeking what he wanted to give her, at least partially. Would she have looked at him if he’d been in his usual jeans and T-shirt? The suit conformed to his CEO role, yet it wasn’t his norm.

  Only it had been lately.

  It’d become his new uniform when the other was safer. Power came with the suit. Expected authority and unearned respect were granted based on nothing more than his appearance. He’d forgotten how emboldening that could be. How it urged him to live up to every expectation, and then be better. To be the one who could provide. Who cared.

  Who was more than just an overbearing Army officer.

  Sex was clearly on the table, but what did she truly need from him? Would she give him more than a quick fuck and thank you? Would she let him take control? What if her answer was yes?

  Visions of her naked, her power entrusted to him as he hunted out her darkest desires, crushed his lingering hesitation.

  He leaned toward her. The intoxicating blend of her perfume wove through him, painting a picture he longed to uncover. Dark, seductive without being obvious. He let every lustful thought and all of his suppressed hunger tumble into his voice. “What do you do with that freedom?”

  No one he knew was here and few here knew him. His lips quirked at the status he’d been cursing when he’d left the convention hall after hours of introductions in his hunt for every possible opportunity. And here one sat, unexpected, but the potential was wide open.

  The only thing holding him back was his own damn rules. Ones he could bend or break—or redefine.

  Chapter Three

  Matt’s eyelids lowered just a notch, his head tilting as he waited for her response. The look pulled her in, daring her to object while encouraging her to concede. His authority prickled over her skin like little darts of permission she longed to explore.

  How would he wield the strength he exuded? Would it be tempered with the gentleness that’d been in his touch? Would he demand too much or not enough?

  Desire mingled with the calculated risk. She knew nothing about him, yet their mutual anonymity enticed her more. That in itself was a freedom she reveled in.

  She could be anything—have anything—with him.

  “Lots of things,” she finally answered, her elusiveness weighted by the huskiness that’d fallen into her tone. She savored the anticipation that flowed openly between them. Possibilities spread out on a chance she rarely took but had no desire to deflect. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  There was no mistaking the predatory hunger simmering below his control. “I have a few ideas.”

  “Such as?” Where would he go with this? Did the game excite him as much as it did her?

  He lifted his shoulder, his gaze dropping to her lips. “Some things are better discovered than told.” His eyes had deepened to a molten brown when he met hers. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  A soft laugh escaped, want crashing forward. Her pulse kicked up, nerves fluttering. “What are you suggesting?” What was she suggesting? At some point, her interest had shifted from simple sex to something riskier and far more tempting.

  The corner of his mouth quirked up before he finished off his beer. He set the glass on the bar with a precision that dismissed his casual front. “I wouldn’t presume to suggest anything.” The heat in his eyes said otherwise.

  “Of course not,” she conceded. She waited a beat, desire overtaking discretion. “But if I was?”

  Some men fled at this point. Others bumbled the pass, while way too many fast-tracked her to slut status. Their demeanor always gave them away. A dose of blatant assumption paired with a leer would end their discussion.

  Nothing changed on his expression, but his thoughts were instantly shielded behind the mask that slammed down. Gone was the heat and suggestion. In its place was a cold wall that emanated nothing. No disdain or interest. Just…nothing.

  The shift was swift, but she managed to hold in her disappointment. She let her own mask slip in as she recrossed her legs. The move created distance, but that didn’t stop the heat from simmering over her skin.

  She wouldn’t be shamed. That emotion had been purged from her years ago. At least in regards to her sexuality. But screw him for trying.

  “I’d be foolish to decline,” he said when she reached for her briefcase.

  Her snort said everything. “There’s nothing to decline.” Not anymore.

  “Kennedy.”

  His light touch to her arm shocked her still. Awareness vibrated outward from the touchpoint, both chilling and warming her. She didn’t attempt to hide her annoyance when she looked to him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, honesty softening his expression and tone. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  She studied him, mouth dry. Desire hummed counter chords of want and warning. She should move her arm away from his touch, just like she should end the conversation and leave. Instead, she asked, “What happened?”

  His brows dipped, nostrils flaring in the long moment before he responded. “You make me want things I shouldn’t.”

  She could say the same. “Like?” She wet her lips, distinctly aware of the slow stroke of his thumb on her arm.

  A sound that edged way too close to a growl rumbled past her. She squeezed her legs to hold back the hunger that blazed to life. That had to have been her imagination. The bar noise distorting sound. Right?

  He leaned in, and she turned her head, giving him her ear. A stroke of heated air ghosted over the sensitive skin, sending a wave of goose bumps down her neck. “Like crushing you against the door of my room and finally tasting those tempting lips of yours. To start.”

  Oh…my… “And then?” she whispered, longing reaching out to caress a desire she barely acknowledged. What would it be like to give him what she never relinquished to anyone, ever?

  “And then…” He blew a gentle stream of air over the shell of her ear. “I’d uncover each secret hidden beneath that expensive suit of yours and tease them out until you gave me everything you’re afraid to ask for.”

  Her swallow hitched on the knot that’d formed in her throat. The image he’d just planted in her head uncurled and spread in a tantalizing shift of power. One she’d only entertained in her most secret fantasies but never dared to explore. Not within her circle of influence. Not with someone who could exploit submission as a weakness.

  He eased back, hunger brazenly displayed. Her nipples tightened in a cry of yes. She wanted every drop of the carnal energy radiating off him. Never, not once in her life, had a man affected her like this.

  And she was far from innocent.

  “Why shouldn’t you want that?” she managed to ask when she was certain her voice wouldn’t waver.

  He studied her for a long moment before releasing a slow breath. “I put that part of my life behind me long ago.” He drew his hand away and motioned to the bartender for their tabs.

  She missed his touch almost immediately. Would it burn over her skin, sink into her bone
s to turn her legs to jelly? Would he release that predatory growl if she ran her hand over his chest?

  “What part?” she asked after she’d yanked her thoughts back to what he’d said. “The sex part?”

  His chuckle held little humor or sound. She saw it more than heard it. He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw, amusement wiping away the darkness that lurked around him. “Yes and no.”

  That intrigued her even more, but she didn’t need his life story to have sex with him.

  “Maybe it’s time to add it back into your life.” She raised a brow. “I hear it’s a really good way to relax.” She made a bad attempt to hold back her smile, failing almost before she tried.

  He shook his head in a slow swivel that countered the smirk growing in stunning increments. It erased the cool reserve and transformed him from dangerous to…gorgeous. The thought of his sexual frustration being unleashed on her turned her interest to instant want.

  “It is, is it?” He paused to sign the tab, sliding hers into his folder before she could object. He flipped the folder closed, the pen tucked inside, and grabbed his tablet before he stood. His hand grazed over her shoulder in a touch that could’ve been accidental but wasn’t.

  She stared up at him, caught in his game despite her attempt to play her own. Her pulse skittered even as she maintained her calm. She wouldn’t chase, and she was pretty certain he wouldn’t either.

  “Would you care to join me?” he asked.

  “For?” she asked with a smirk of her own, already sliding out of her chair, her briefcase and phone in her hand.

  He turned away without answering, but her grin spread as she followed him from the bar. His proud carriage enticed people to clear a path without so much as an “excuse me” from him.

  She tracked the breadth of his back down to the impression of his ass beneath his suit coat. It wasn’t the suit, but the confidence he projected within it. The command that flowed naturally from his demeanor and movements that had her so close to relinquishing what she protected the most.

  He turned to her as they emerged from the bar, sliding his tablet into his inner pocket. The sun had set, and she distantly acknowledged that she should be hungry, but food was the last thing on her mind.