Teach Me, Master (Neighbors, 3)

by Qwillia Rain

  Progress. Vince could see she was tempted. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Then what’ll it hurt, Treats. Give me your number and you can tell me no all you want.”

  “You’re not gonna let up, are you?”

  Vince shook his head and grinned unrepentant over his tactics. “Nope.”

  “Fine.” She rattled off her number.

  Vince keyed it in and saved it, then opened the driver’s door with a flourish and handed her up into the seat. “Thank you.”

  She still had to look up at him as he leaned toward her. He pulled the tie from beneath his collar and dropped it in her lap. “Here.”

  Her fingers curled around it, but she didn’t thrust it back at him. “What’s this for?”

  “For you to get used to.”

  “Used to what?”

  She might not be sure, but he saw the flicker of understanding in her gaze. “For you to get used to the feel of silk around your wrists.” He didn’t wait for her to comment. He shut the door and stepped away from the vehicle. The fact that she started the truck and eased from the parking space without returning his tie more than assured him of her curiosity. He could work with that.

  When she exited the parking lot and crossed the street to the apartment complex, Vince didn’t hold back his laughter. This only gets better and better.

  He watched her park in front of the building facing his condo. Now he knew where she lived.

  Once back in his condo, he stepped out onto his balcony, keeping an eye on Triss as she unloaded her truck and carried the supplies inside. It only made things better when he noticed movement in the apartment facing his condo. Through the half-open blinds of the sliding glass door, he saw her enter the apartment. He waited until she’d settled onto her sofa before calling. He could feel the smile grow wider on his lips when she wrapped his tie around her wrist.

  “Hello?”

  “Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

  Her head came up and, even from the distance of a two lane street, he could see her eyes go wide. She snatched the tie from her wrist and shoved it beneath the sofa cushion.

  “I told you I was raised to be a good girl.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re very good, Treats. Especially when you want to be naughty.” Vince hung up and waved at her before heading inside.

  Treats would be a challenge.

  And he loved a challenge.

  Chapter Two

  One year later

  In the shadowed breezeway, Triss leaned around the vacuum cleaner in front of her to secure the deadbolt of the condo she’d just finished cleaning. While she fumbled with the keys, the caddy of cleaning solutions she held wobbled, her tote bag started to slide off her shoulder, and the step stool tucked under her arm began slipping.

  “You need some help there, Treats?” A mellow masculine voice floated over her shoulder.

  On the verge of containing the wonky caddy and her sliding tote, Triss lost hold of the keys the moment she heard him. When the keys fell, she leaned forward to grab them and smacked her forehead against the handle of the vacuum cleaner.

  “Ow, damn it,” she muttered as stars danced against her eyelids. The caddy toppled from her grip. The stool lost the fight against gravity and plummeted to the floor after one of its legs bounced off her foot. Her tote slid off her shoulder, spilling the contents everywhere.

  Warm hands gripped her waist, pulling her against the solid expanse of a male form. Fire coursed through her body. It seared her flesh where he touched her and stirred the smoldering embers banked low in her belly since she’d first seen Vince five years earlier, and met him last year.

  “Are you okay? Damn, Treats, I didn’t mean to scare you, hon.”

  Even the silly nickname he’d given her made her sizzle with anticipation. Triss had to focus to keep her heart from exploding from her chest as the object of her lust-fueled fantasies turned her to face him. In the dimly lit hall, he carefully examined the bruise developing on her forehead. Long tapered fingers stroked over her brow, his touch gentle and soothing on the painful spot where she’d connected with the cleaner. The pads of his fingers were rough from working with his hands. Despite the suit and tie he wore, Triss knew Vince wasn’t afraid to get dirty when it was necessary.

  “You good?” he asked, bending his knees to bridge the ten inch difference in their heights and bring his blue eyes level with her brown ones.

  Triss didn’t trust her voice so she nodded. When her gaze dropped to the pile of cleaning supplies and personal items around their feet, she groaned and started to lean down.

  “No.” His hands smoothed down her arms from shoulder to elbow. “I’ve got it. You stay right there.” The authoritative tone was the same one he used during their twice a week evening phone calls.

  Ignoring the dirt on the concrete common area between the condos, Vince dropped to one knee and quickly resettled the jumbled contents of her caddy. She could see the swirl in the way his hair grew on the crown of his head and the black band that fastened the almost mid-back length at his nape as he knelt before her. The heat of his breath and the warmth from his body soaked into the top of her jean-clad thighs, sending another pulse through her center. She squeezed her thighs tight to stop the moisture pooling in her panties, but it was a futile task.

  He seemed to take an extra moment settling the contents of the caddy and gathering the handles of her tote bag. He drew in his breath. She probably reeked of sweat and cleaning agents from her job. Triss prayed that would mask the scent her body produced in reaction to his proximity. She was too aware of the musk her arousal exuded. She’d dealt with it on nearly a nightly basis for the last twelve months, despite the naughty calls they exchanged on Monday and Tuesday nights. Or more accurately, because of the calls and the temptation they represented.

  A blush crept into her cheeks at the thought of those calls and of Vince smelling her reaction to him. She tried valiantly to remain calm when he rose with the handles to her tote and the caddy in his grip.

  “Just like when we met. Here you go.” He held them out to her.

  “Only this time it’s afternoon and you don’t have a date.” Triss hastily slid the straps of her bag over her shoulder and gripped the caddy tight, careful to avoid any contact with his fingers. She held her hand out for the keys he’d also picked up, but Vince shook his head.

  “Let me take care of that for you.” He motioned for her to turn so she faced the door again.

  She did. For some reason, she always did what he told her. Triss didn’t -- couldn’t -- respond when he leaned around her and slid the key, slowly into the deadbolt. The leisurely, methodical way he twisted the key allowed his warm body to rest against her, one arm blocking her escape while his free hand remained at her hip. Triss swallowed and fought the hum of appreciation rumbling in her chest as the crisp scent of cloves, man, and fine cashmere drifted up from the coat Vince wore. Then came close to swallowing her tongue when his hips pressed closer, the thick length of his erection warm through their clothing.

  “There. All safe and secure.” Vince smiled down at her, turned her hand over, and set the keys in her palm before curling her fingers over them, but he didn’t allow her to face him.

  A winsome fantasy had Triss believing, if only for a moment that a glint of danger flashed in Vince’s eyes when she lifted her gaze to his. As if he were taunting her with a façade of safety while luring her into dangerous waters only he knew how to navigate. Deep inside the tingle started. The trickle of fear made her body hum.

  “Thank you.” Triss was barely able to suppress the wince at the croaky sound of her voice.

  He took a step back giving her room to turn. His hands slow to leave her body and settle into the pockets of his overcoat

  Why was it, that when the opportunity presented itself to let her actually talk to her crush in person, her spine turned to goo and her mind went to mush? It never happened to her characters. Never. It never happened during their calls. She had n
o problem telling him exactly what she wanted him to do to her, with her. In person though -- self-confidence fizzled.

  His sexy bedroom eyes glittered as Vince watched her gaze up at him in what she was sure resembled stupefied wonder. “Were you heading somewhere, Treats?” His fingers brushed the wisps of hair from her brow and waited for her to move.

  “Yes.” Where ever you were going. Sanity kicked in. “Oh, yes. I have to… I’m supposed to drop off the keys.” She gave him a weak smile and edged away from him. Drawing a bracing breath, she tried the smile again. “Thanks for your help.”

  She’d made it as far as the landing to the stairs before the sound of him clearing his throat stopped her.

  “Uh, Treats? Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  Heat bloomed in her cheeks when she turned and found him watching her, his arms crossed over the handle of her vacuum cleaner, the foldaway stool leaning against his leg.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

  He waved her off when she stepped toward him. “You’ve got your hands full. I’ll carry these down for you.” He hefted the cleaner with one hand, the stool hanging in the crook of his elbow, and was beside her in only a few strides.

  The warmth of his hand at the base of her spine sent electricity through her body as they moved down the stairs together, and into the covered parking next to the building.

  A crisp fall wind stirred the leaves carpeting the ground as more drifted from the slowly emptying limbs of the nearby trees. It was early enough that the majority of the residents hadn’t returned from work yet, so a number of parking spaces remained empty. The low cloud cover had been spitting rain off and on all day, leaving oily pools scattered across the asphalt.

  At her SUV, she pressed the remote and unlocked the doors before switching on the autostarter. She waited while Vince settled the vacuum into the rear section of the truck before she secured the cleaning caddy and the stool in their places.

  “Thank you for your help.” She turned to face him only to find him too close, one arm gripping the handle to tug the rear hatch down, the other tucked into the pocket of his coat.

  “What would it take to get you to come to my place?” he asked.

  “I don’t do housekeeping.” Triss reached up, tugged the strap from his grip - only because he allowed her to, and then closed the hatch. Careful to avoid touching his body, she moved around him to the driver’s door. He’d been asking her out for months now, and Triss had been dodging the question the same way.

  Vince allowed her to do it again. He followed her around her truck, his hand grasping the door’s handle and opening it for her. “You clean the vacant condos? How is that not housekeeping?”

  Forcing herself to stay calm, she climbed into the seat and pushed the key into the ignition. She didn’t respond until after she’d rolled down the window. Vince closed the door.

  “It’s different because I don’t have to worry about cleaning around furniture or breakables.” She wasn’t about to confess to how much of a klutz she was. She’d shown him at least twice how uncoordinated she was.

  “Treats, I refuse to beg.” Vince smiled.

  Oh my, she would love to make him beg. He never did, no matter how hard she tried during their conversations. But her cleaning skills were the last thing she wanted him to beg for.

  “We both know you want to.” He leaned close, arms crossed on her open window.

  Damn right she wanted to, but there was no way she was going to torture herself by cleaning his apartment after one of his raucous nights with the ladies she’d glimpsed from across the street. Although there hadn’t been any in the last year, she’d had plenty of opportunities to see them in the five years he’d lived there. It was bad enough she had given into his urgings and let the man tell her the things he would do to her and let her confess the things she wanted to do to him. The fact that the balcony of her apartment faced the balcony of his condo with only a two lane street separating them was torturous.

  They may have finally met a year ago, but she’d been all too aware of him for years. Nuh uh, no way was she going to add emotional masochism to her long list of faults. “Sorry, Vince. I quit picking up after men when my brothers left home. I’m not about to start up again.”

  He shook his head and sighed. “Who said you’d be picking up after me?”

  “Part of cleaning requires picking up.”

  “Did I ever use the word ‘clean’, Treats?”

  Triss found it hard to concentrate with him watching her the way he did. Hesitantly, she shook her head. No more playing stupid. He’d put it out there, placing the ball firmly in her court.

  The smile on his lips sent electric currents arrowing straight to her groin. The ache in her breasts increased, her nipples formed tight peaks, and her breath stopped for several seconds. She finally found her voice enough to ask, “What would I do at your place if I didn’t clean?”

  He leaned through the open window, his gaze holding hers as he lifted his hand and caressed the furiously beating pulse at the side of her throat with his fingertips. “Be a naughty good girl. The list is endless. I’ve only told you a portion of it during our little play sessions on the phone. You can’t deny it would be infinitely appealing and satisfying.”

  He seemed to wait for his words to settle in before he spoke again. The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice made the words into a command, not a request. “Come upstairs with me now, Treats.”

  A command that had Triss’s fingers hovering on the key, tempted to give in. Fear more than responsibility compelled her to shake her head in refusal. The good girl she’d been raised to be mentally yanked her bad girl back into her room and locked the door. “I – I have to go.”

  “I won’t wait much longer, pet.”

  Ah hell, now I’m in for it. Triss didn’t respond. She fumbled to roll up the window as she put the truck in gear and backed out of the parking space.

  A glance in the rear view mirror confirmed Triss’s suspicion that he continued to watch her until she turned the corner out of sight.

  He watched her drive off and shook his head. There was just something about Treats that made him contemplate ripping her clothes off and taking her up against the nearest flat surface. It was a reaction he hadn’t felt for any woman. It had definitely been touch and go for a moment when he’d held her in the hallway upstairs.

  Not typical behavior for him, but becoming so since he’d met the lady.

  Triss was different from any of the women he’d been involved with. On the outside, in person, she was a quiet, shy little mouse always scurrying away to avoid his attention. Her lush figure, dark brown hair and eyes had first attracted him to her. Petite, she couldn’t be more than two or three inches over five feet, but she fit him. His body throbbed at the memory of how good she’d felt against him.

  In person, she hid her fire. But over the phone…that’s where his Treats showed her true essence. Stubborn and opinionated, he’d learned how she tried to take control of situations to gain what she wanted. In the vernacular of the BDSM world he played in, she liked to Top from the bottom. It had only taken a phone call or two to correct that behavior, although she fell back into it on occasion. He could guide her to climax without ever touching her creamy skin, but he wanted more.

  Over the last year, from the distance between their balconies, he’d worked on gaining her trust, her cooperation. Showed her the fire and passion that could be between them, but still she was reluctant to take it to the next level.

  It was a daily battle to remember that dragging the woman into his home and binding her to his bed constituted kidnap in every state. If it came down to him forcing her to choose, he was perfectly capable of doing that. And enjoying every second. Not to mention making her like his methods of persuasion.

  He climbed the stairs and chuckled at how seeing Treats coming out of Shelly’s condo surprised him. If the girl only knew what Shelly used to get up to inside that place.

  Not that
he’d participated or ever accepted the bold invitations Shelly had extended on a weekly basis. If ever there was a woman who gave new meaning to the word ‘sex-kitten’ it was Shelly Prince. The woman was a legend in the condominium complex -- at least among the male residents.

  The demure, nice girl his Treats presented to the world, the one who turned a becoming shade of pink and stumbled over her words when he teased her in person, would react with stunned disbelief. Her dark brown eyes would go wide and round, she’d be rendered speechless if she were to guess at the near-orgies Shelly had indulged in before marrying Patrick O’Brien summer before last.

  Oh, but the sexy Treats he teased and played with over the phone would ask for more. Every detail, every recounted act that had gone on in the condo and the men Shelly had partied with. Then she’d turn all those little facts around and try to use them to gain the upper hand the next time they indulged in a little phone sex.

  Sexy as Shelly had been with her swim-suit model body and long strawberry blonde hair, Vince was nowhere near as aroused by her as he was by Treats.

  The toe of his shoe connected with something when he neared his door. Stooping, he picked up the object. It took a moment before he recognized the book as one similar to the two journals he’d stuffed back into Treats’ tote bag a few minutes earlier.

  He’d have to return it to her. A good excuse as any to get into her apartment and breakdown the barriers the woman kept throwing up. His fingers brushed the business card he’d tucked into his pocket with his keys, and he smiled.

  Chapter Three

  Half an hour later the tapping of his pen against the polished surface of his desk barely registered on Vince’s consciousness. With his sole focus on the spiral bound journal in front of him, it was doubtful any outside interference could penetrate his thoughts.

  Etiquette demanded he leave the book alone and return it at his earliest opportunity to its owner. Unrequited lust urged him to open it up and discover all the secrets scribbled within. Self-preservation whispered that he avoid the half pound, nine by twelve inch package as if it were the most lethal of bombs.