A Touch of Persuasion

by Janice Maynard

  His whispered curse was barely audible. She saw his fists clench at his hips. “Walk toward me.”

  The distance between her and the door where he stood was considerable, more so because she was naked and he was eyeing her like a condemned man who hadn’t seen a woman in months.

  When she was halfway across the room, he held out a hand. “Stop. Turn around. Take down your hair.”

  She had tucked it up in a loose chignon during lunch when the heat of the day made the weight of her long hair uncomfortable. Now she reached for the pins and removed them, dropping them into a cut glass dish on the coffee table. Deliberately she ran a hand through the masses of heavy, silky strands and shook her head.

  When she was done, she looked at him over her shoulder through lowered lashes. “Does this meet with your approval, Mr. Wolff?”

  His jaw firmed. “Are you sassing me, Olivia?”

  “Would I do that?” Her eyes widened dramatically.

  “Face me. Touch your breasts.”

  They were playing a game of chicken, and Kieran had just upped the stakes. Olivia felt her throat and cheeks flush, but she reversed her position and hesitantly placed her hands on her chest. Her voice was gone, locked down by the giant lump in her throat.

  “I said touch them. Put your fingers on your nipples.”

  Good Lord. She licked her lips, dizzy and desperate for his touch. Feeling awkward but aroused, she did as he demanded, feeling her sensitive flesh bud and tighten as she stroked herself. The sensation was incredible, pleasuring herself as Kieran watched with a hooded gaze.

  “Beautiful.” He breathed the word like a prayer, the three syllables almost inaudible.

  When her skin became too sensitive to continue, her hands dropped to her sides.

  Kieran didn’t move. How did he do it? She was so hungry for him, her whole body trembled.

  But he wasn’t finished. His gaze blazing with his heat, he narrowed his eyes. “Go to the bedroom. Don’t look back. Lie down on the bed on your stomach.”

  She flinched in momentary fear. But it was a gut reaction. Kieran would never hurt her or make her uncomfortable. This was all about pleasure. His and hers.

  Turning away from him was difficult. She knew he watched her, hawklike, as she walked slowly toward the doorway that led into the rest of the suite. Once, she stumbled, but she finally made it into the bedroom. For a moment, she stood in indecision. Was she supposed to turn back the covers?

  The bedding was expensive and ornate. Making a rapid decision, she folded back the top layers and lay, facedown, on the smooth crisp sheet. Her heartbeat sounded loud and irregular in her ears. Her arms were by her sides. Ten seconds passed. She raised her arms over her head.

  What did he want? What were his plans?

  Moments later she heard the sound of his footsteps on the carpet. Nearby a rustle and then the rasp of a zipper. A soft clink when the belt buckle slid free. The sounds of a man undressing.

  An activity that was at once commonplace and yet deeply erotic, particularly when the woman in his bed was not allowed to witness the disrobing. She imagined his long, muscular limbs, narrow hips, jutting arousal.

  The bed shuddered when he put a knee beside her hip and joined her on the mattress. Without warning, he took her two wrists and bound them together with what felt like his necktie. She struggled instinctively. He paid her no mind.

  The silk fabric tightened, and then she felt him lean down as he whispered in her ear. “You’re at my mercy now. Everything I ask of you, you’ll do, and in exchange, I’ll make you burn.”

  “Kieran…” The word ended on a cry as he ran his tongue around the shell of her ear and winnowed his fingers through her hair. With a slow, steady touch, he massaged her scalp. His fingertips skated to her nape, the back of her ear. Her whole body craved his attention, but he was set on a course that was drugging, slow and steady.

  Gradually, almost imperceptibly, he moved south, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles of her neck and shoulders. Her spine caught his focus. He ran his tongue the length of it and then rubbed gently on either side.

  At her ass, he made a sound, a cross between a groan and a curse. Quivering, helpless, she felt him plump the cheeks, trace the cleft, reach beneath her and brush the part of her that ached the most.

  When she spread her legs, begging wordlessly, he chuckled and abandoned the ground he had barely conquered. “Patience, Olivia.”

  She felt his hands beneath her hips, lifting her, turning her. Now she could see him, and the sight took her breath and shredded it. His broad chest was tanned and rippled with muscle. An arrow of fine, dark hair traced the midline, all the way down to where his shaft reared proudly against his abdomen.

  His erection was thick and long, and a drop of moisture glistened on the tip. “Please,” she begged without pride. “Please don’t make us wait.”

  “Waiting is half the fun. I want you crazed when I finally take you, so lost to reason that nothing exists but you and me and this bed.”

  It was as if he were a hypnotist. Her body responded to his words atavistically, ceding control without a qualm. But by the look on his face, his control was more fragile than he was willing to admit. His jaw was tight. The dark flush of color staining his cheeks made him look wild and uncivilized…a man close to the edge.

  He bent over her, no part of his body touching hers except his lips. “I love your mouth,” he said, tracing the soft flesh with his tongue and sliding through to taste her.

  She tried to link her bound wrists over his head to trap him close, but he moved away, using one big hand to pin hers to the mattress. “Naughty, naughty,” he teased.

  Suddenly very serious, he kept his gaze locked on hers as he slid his free hand down her stomach and between her thighs. Two large fingers entered her, testing her readiness. Her hips came off the bed, her heartbeat racing as sweat beaded her forehead.

  He never looked away and neither could she. All the secrets of a man’s desires were there in his eyes if she could only translate them. Was this all he wanted from her? Dare she hope he needed more?

  Stroking lazily, he turned interrogator. “Tell me about the men in your life, Olivia. Who has benefitted from what I taught you back in England?”

  His finger brushed her clitoris and she gasped. “None of your damned business, Wolff man. I haven’t quizzed you about your women in every port.”

  Back and forth. Back and forth. That brazen fingertip brought her closer and closer to the edge. “There haven’t been that many,” he said slowly, looking at his hand’s mischief and not her face. “I work long hours when I’m overseas. Not much time for play.”

  “But a man like you can’t go without sex for long. Back in university you wanted it twice a day, three times if we were lucky.”

  “That’s because I was obsessed with you.”

  The blunt confession gave wings to her heart. But she reined in her excitement. The pertinent word in that sentence was in the past tense. Was. Kieran had been a horny young adult male. And Olivia had fallen into his bed like the proverbial ripe peach.

  As a fully mature man, he was no less sexually primed, but he’d had any number of women since he left England so suddenly. And even now, being with Olivia was probably more about expedience and availability than any deep-seated obsession.

  Kieran’s early experiences in life had clearly stunted his ability to express deep emotion. He was a passionate man, but she doubted whether he was capable of true romantic love. That would mean putting a female first in his life, and she had seen no sign of such willingness in his behavior.

  He clearly wanted her, but for Olivia, that would never be enough.

  His hand moved, and she gave up analyzing the situation. Today was about physical pleasure. Her heart was safely locked away.

  Kieran released her wrists. Sliding far down in the bed, he used his hands to widen the vee of her legs. When she felt his hot breath on her thighs, she tensed in panic. They had never ex
plored this kind of intimacy when she was younger. “No, wait…” she blurted out. “I don’t like this.”

  “How do you know?” he asked, a lazy smile tilting the corners of his mouth.

  “Seriously, Kieran.” She pushed at his shoulder. “I mean it. Stop.”

  He reared up, all humor erased from his face. “I’ll stop. If you insist. But it would give me great pleasure to do this with you.”

  She nibbled her lower lip, caught between unease and cautious interest. “What if I can’t come, because I’m too self-conscious?” Blurting out what she was thinking wasn’t something she planned, but he might as well know the truth.

  “Relax, Olivia. It’s not an exam you have to study for. I want to make you happy. That’s all. You don’t have to do a thing.”

  Her hand fell to the sheet. “Well, I…”

  Anticipating her consent, he resumed his earlier position. She felt the softness of his hair on her leg, jerked briefly as his hot breath feathered over her belly. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

  She closed her eyes, arching her back at the first gentle pass of his tongue. When she moaned, helpless in the grip of shivering sensation that spread in warm ripples throughout her lower body, he repeated the motion. The sensation was indescribable. Like a warm, electric shock that built and built until she called out his name in a frenzy of need. “Kieran. Oh, God. Kieran.”

  His muffled response was neither decipherable nor important. She was lost, caught up in a whirlwind that slammed into her, dragged her over the edge of a perfect climax and dropped her helpless into his embrace.

  When she recovered, he had moved up beside her and was leaning on an elbow watching her with a totally masculine satisfaction. “Still don’t like it?” he asked drolly. One eyebrow lifted in a questioning stance.

  She tried to corral her ragged breathing. “Don’t brag.”

  He placed his hand, palm opened flat, on her belly. “Watching you come like that ranks as the highlight of my year.”

  “The year’s only halfway done,” she quipped, trying not to let him see how completely undone she was. “Too early to tell.” She put her hand on top of his and laced their fingers together.

  “Don’t be so modest. I’m sure they heard you in Brooklyn.”

  “Kieran!” Mortification washed over her and she rolled to her side, bending her knee and resting her leg across his hairy thighs. They were hard and corded with muscle. His deep tan extended everywhere except for a narrow band of white at his hips and the tops of his thighs.

  She imagined him, laboring out beneath a blazing tropical sun, shirtless, wearing only cargo shorts and boots. Did he ever get lonely always living among strangers? The question hovered on her lips, but she knew it was self-serving. Obviously his lifestyle suited him. Otherwise, he would have come home long ago.

  He lifted her without warning and settled her astride his hips. His hunger unappeased, he flexed and grew at least another centimeter beneath her fascinated gaze. She put both hands on him, measuring the length and breadth.

  Hard steel pulsed beneath his velvet skin. Even if she had been with a dozen lovers in the interim, she couldn’t imagine that any of them would have been as beautiful in body and spirit as Kieran Wolff. Perhaps such a virile man might balk at the feminine adjective, but Olivia chose not to retract it, even in her own private discourse.

  Kieran’s body was perfect. Even the smattering of scars that were part and parcel of the hard physical labor he performed only served to make his physique more interesting.

  She saw him reach for a condom, and her heartbeat accelerated.

  Extending his hand, he challenged her. “Will you do the honors?”

  Eleven

  Kieran waited, amused and impatient, as Olivia fumbled with the condom. The earnest intent on her face filled him with tenderness and another feeling not so easy to diagnose. He brushed aside the unfamiliar emotion and concentrated on the physical.

  While she labored, he played with her breasts displayed so temptingly in front of his face. He tweaked a nipple, noticing with interest that his gentle pinch washed her face with color. A similar firm caress on the other breast deepened the crimson.

  Olivia finished her task, her face damp with perspiration. “There. All set.”

  He tested the fit and nodded. “Good thing I brought a dozen.”

  “A dozen?”

  The strangled squeak in her voice made him chuckle despite the fact that the skin on his penis was tight enough to cause every vein to bulge. He’d been in this state, in varying degrees, for over an hour now. In fact, he might set some kind of damned record for extended foreplay.

  Not that he hadn’t enjoyed himself immensely. God, she was sweet. And hot as a firecracker. Though she probably didn’t see it in herself, she was one of the most innately sensual women he had ever met.

  With his hand, he positioned himself. “You ready, honey?”

  Her eyelids were at half-mast, her lips swollen from his kisses. The skin at her throat bore the marks of his passion, and her nipples puckered as if begging for his kisses. He leaned up and obliged, just as he thrust as hard as he could manage into her welcoming heat.

  Their foreheads actually bumped together.

  “Hell,” he said ruefully, the pain giving him a moment’s respite from total insanity. “Rub my head.” His hands were clenched on her curvy ass, and he had no plans to let go.

  She kissed his forehead. “Poor baby.”

  Her innocent motion seated him more deeply. “Hold still,” he said through clenched teeth. “Damn it, I’m about to come.”

  “Isn’t that the object of this exercise?”

  He groaned, caught between incredulous laughter and the imminent explosion in his loins. Had any woman ever made him experience both in such measure? His heart caught, and he buried his face in her neck, panting, trying to stay the course. “You’re killing me.”

  Reaching behind her, she found his sac and delicately played with him. It was like being hit by a lightning bolt. He lost control of himself, of her, of the entire flippin’ situation.

  Pumping his hips wildly, he thrust upward again and again, deaf, blind, mute…except for the caveman grunts that were all he could manage. Olivia clung to his shoulders as he fell to his back. Her breasts glided across his face, sweet-smelling, soft and warm.

  God, he never wanted to stop. He wanted to mark her as his, to stake a claim. She found his lips and kissed him. That was all it took. He shot so hard that his balls pulled up, a vise tightened around his forehead and he saw nothing but blackness and yellow sparks for long, agonizing seconds.

  At last, he lay spent, Olivia draped over him like a weary nymph.

  “Good God in heaven.”

  She nodded, her breasts smashed against his heaving chest, her cheek resting atop his thundering heart. “I hope you’re in good shape. I’d hate to have to call the concierge for the number of the closest cardiac center.”

  He stroked her ass, deciding he might never move. “You’re something else, Olivia Delgado.”

  One eyelid lifted and then fluttered shut. “Mmm…”

  “Don’t go to sleep on me.”

  “Is that literally or metaphorically?”

  Given her current posture, it was a fair question. “Either, I suppose.” He yawned and stretched. “Any idea what time it is?”

  “Do we care?”

  “I may not have been entirely truthful.” When she stiffened in his arms, he could have kicked himself for his unfortunate phraseology. “I promised we could do this for twenty-four hours, but I think I’m going to need sustenance.”

  “Room service?”

  He patted her butt. “I was thinking of something a bit more upscale. After all, we are in the greatest city in the world. We should go somewhere incredibly expensive and over-the-top.”

  “And you know such a spot?” She slid off him, sat up and clutched the sheet to her chest.

  Her sudden modesty was baffling. Bu
t then again, he never claimed to understand women. “I’ve heard Jacob talk about a place he likes.”

  “Jacob, the strong silent doctor? Somehow I thought he was above us mere mortals who need to eat.”

  “Jacob has his weaknesses. New York style cheesecake, for one. He’s usually here in the city for medical conferences every year or so. In fact, he did a consult at Lenox Hill Hospital last Christmas.”

  “He’s scary smart, isn’t he?”

  Kieran grinned. “Oh, yeah. Perfect score on the SATs. Four years of college in two and a half.” He paused, and cocked his head. “Do we have to talk about my brother any longer, or can I interest you in a shower?”

  “I’ll race you.”

  He was treated to a delicious view of Olivia’s backside as she dropped her only covering and darted into the bathroom. When he followed her, she was already hidden from view, water running. “Room for two?” he asked, stepping in without an invitation.

  When Olivia sputtered with maidenly affront, he grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Olivia discovered that even a man who slept in grass huts and swallowed the occasional disgusting, edible bug could drum up romance if he put his mind to it, starting with a tuxedo that appeared as if by magic, delivered by a uniformed bellman.

  When Kieran strode out of the bedroom clad in crisp black and white, fumbling with a bow tie, her breathing hitched. He was gorgeous. No other word to describe him. “Help me with this damned thing,” he said. “They’re a necessary evil, but I’m out of practice.”

  She stood behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck, deftly folding the fabric into the desired configuration. “Out of practice?” She nipped his earlobe with her teeth. “I don’t think so.”

  He turned and scooped her off her feet, twirling her in a circle before setting her back down. “I love reviews from satisfied customers.”

  “Customer? Good grief. Am I going to get a bill for services rendered?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. This afternoon was only my warm-up. I’ll have to let you know.”

  He slid his hands beneath her hair and steadied her head while he dove deep for a hungry, forceful kiss.