His Name Is Sir (The Power to Please, Book 3)

by Ward, Deena

  Odd. All these feelings.

  I sipped my water and let my thoughts drift. I was close to dozing off when I heard a knock on the door.

  I smiled. It would be Elaine, or Ron, coming to check on me.

  I climbed out of the chair, walked over and opened the door.

  I said, “Oh!”

  It wasn’t Elaine or Ron. It was Gibson Reeves.

  He was as handsome as ever, dressed casually tonight in an open-necked black shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans.

  He gave me a steady look and said, “I wanted to make sure you were okay. When you didn’t come out with the others, I thought that perhaps ...”

  I said, stupidly, “Oh.”

  He asked, “So, are you okay?”

  “Oh, yes. Of course. Fine. Just resting.”

  “I’m glad. Can I come in?”

  Without thinking, really, I gave the polite response of, “Sure, come in.”

  He walked past me. I caught his spicy scent as I closed the door. How well I remembered that scent, and I felt a wistful twinge at the memory of The Businessman, as I once dubbed him before I knew his name.

  Gibson settled on the sofa and I curled myself back into the recliner. I picked up my bottle of water and busied myself by suddenly needing to read the label. I felt Gibson’s inscrutable gaze on me.

  I couldn’t stand the silence. I asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Damn. I floundered around, trying to think of something to say.

  I asked, “Did you enjoy the show?”

  I almost groaned aloud at such a dumb question. It would make it seem as if I were begging for compliments or something.

  Gibson said, “I did, yes.”

  And that was all he said. Back to silence.

  I said, “It was Elaine’s present for her husband, Ron.”

  “Yes, I heard that.”

  Silence again.

  Oh, for crying out loud, I thought. The man could help me out a bit, maybe speak a sentence longer than four words. Why was he here, anyway, if all he was going to do was sit there and stare at me? And why did I let him in the room? Stupid, stupid automatic manners.

  I didn’t even like the man. He should be aware of how I felt about him, considering the way we parted the last time I saw him. I don’t think I even deigned to return his farewell before he left.

  My stubbornness kicked in and, much to my relief, overrode my nervousness. Fine, if he wanted to play this all weird and strange, and silent, then I wouldn’t be the one to stop him. I sipped my drink and held my tongue.

  Tick tock. Tick tock. If there had been an old clock in the room, that would have been the only sounds to be heard.

  Then seemingly out of nowhere, he asked, “Is it true that you’re no longer seeing Michael Weston?”

  I looked at Gibson, hard. His expression was unreadable as usual. I doubted mine was. The man finally found a topic of conversation and he picked the one I least wanted to discuss.

  I asked, “Where’d you hear that?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “It is to me. If someone is gossiping about my personal life, I’d like to know who.”

  “This is a smaller community than you’d think. It’s difficult to keep secrets.”

  “That’s not possible. I hardly know anyone.”

  He shrugged. “Weston has a ... wide acquaintance.”

  “Oh.” Now that made me wonder. Was Michael talking about me to people?

  I asked, “What, exactly, did you hear about us?”

  “Only enough to lead me to suspect that you two had parted ways. I was hoping you’d clarify for me if that separation was temporary or permanent.”

  “I see.” But I didn’t. I was itching to find out what rumors might be floating around out there about me and Michael.

  Gibson studied me. “So are you finished with Michael Weston?”

  Well, here was a place to start setting the record straight. I answered, “Yes, I broke it off with him almost two weeks ago. The day after the ball here at Private Residence, in fact.”

  He nodded, and the briefest of smiles lifted the corners of his mouth before disappearing again.

  Damn, I thought. He probably thinks he had something to do with the breakup, that I had heeded his unasked-for advice about Michael. Though I wanted to clarify, I fought back the urge, not wanting to explain the exact circumstances surrounding my decision to leave Michael. Let Gibson think what he wanted.

  Gibson said, “If you don’t mind, I’d like that drink now. Some water, if you have any, please.”

  I nodded, stood up and headed over to the mini bar. I quickly grabbed up a bottle of water and walked back over to Gibson.

  I was just holding out the bottle to him, when he stood up next to me. He didn’t take the bottle. Instead, he gently closed his fingers over my wrist.

  I looked up at him, way up. He was so appealingly tall. So handsome, with his strong masculine features and his dark, enigmatic eyes.

  Too bad he was such a cold ass.

  He ran a fingertip across the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist. My heart thumpity-thumped. Obviously, my heart didn’t realize what a jerk this guy was.

  And neither did my lips, apparently, because when Gibson leaned down and kissed me, a soft brush, a wisp of sensation, my lips trembled at his touch.

  He pulled me tightly against him, and he deepened his kiss, stealing my breath and any resistance I might have had. I was transported back to another place. Back to the first time he touched me, kissed me, in the shadowed back hall of a bar. Back to when he was still the mysterious Businessman.

  The scent of his cologne, the clean, fresh taste of his mouth and the feel of his strong hands on my waist and the back of my neck, they all conspired to send me reeling into that other time and place.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. Just for now, and only because I needed to be touched like this, I would let myself go with Gibson again. He was here. I was here. I had been feeling like I was missing something. Maybe it was this, being touched, desired. Why not let go?

  I wasn’t that innocent woman in that old bar anymore, the one who trusted a stranger far too easily, the one who didn’t know what she wanted. I knew what I wanted now. And right at this moment, a quick fling with Gibson Reeves might well provide what I had been missing. Completion. He could give me that.

  His velvet tongue stole into my mouth, and I accepted it with a moan. Yes, that was what I wanted. Our tongues danced together, and I sought more.

  His hands reached for the tie of my robe, tugging gently. I wasn’t up for gentle, so I reached down and yanked the tie open, then in an instant, shrugged out of the robe, letting it fall to the floor around my bare feet. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him tightly.

  Gibson made a groaning kind of noise in the back of his throat, and his kiss grew fiercer while his hands squeezed my waist, then made their way up my sides. Both hands closed over my breasts at the same time. I shuddered.

  Delicious, the way he held me. Then his hands were under my ass, and he picked me up, taking a few steps backward, and sitting down on the sofa, taking me with him, leaving me straddled on his lap.

  I liked the new position, liked the feel of his hard arousal under my ass, liked pressing my hands against his muscled chest, liked the way he was looking at my breasts, and then the way he was touching me again.

  He squeezed and tormented my breasts, still sensitive from Ron’s handling. Gibson’s least touch on my nipples sent little jolts straight to my pussy. I was throbbing already, and knew I was wet under my white panties.

  He gathered my breasts in both hands, pushing them together, then leaned forward and kissed his way up the cleavage he created. I trembled and reached between us for the buttons of his shirt, wanting to feel his skin under my fingertips.

  I undid one button and started on the second when he closed a hand over mine. Not ev
en lifting his head from my breasts, he said, “No.”

  I said, “Yes,” and ignored his hand, unbuttoned the second button.

  He glanced up at me. I continued unbuttoning his shirt. He didn’t say anything else, just returned his attentions to my breasts.

  When the last button of his shirt was undone, I spread my hands out over his smooth chest. Mmmm, so warm, delicious. So hard, his muscles, contrasting with his silky skin under my fingertips.

  He sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, a powerful pull and stretch of flesh that made me twitch and sigh. Oh, so good. So very good.

  And we stayed like that for a while, enjoying one another, teasing each other. I ran my fingers over his tiny nipples, back and forth, loving how it felt as they moved under my touch. He suckled my breasts, and nipped at them, sometimes lightly, sometimes not.

  Soon enough, though, I was ready for more. An emotion that I didn’t recognize, couldn’t name, was rising up inside me, building, growing stronger by the moment. I felt driven by this surge of unknown feeling, driven to go further, push harder, take more, fill the need. What need? Sex? No. Not that simple. Didn’t know what it was.

  I rocked my hips against Gibson’s lap, rubbing myself over his erection, letting him know what I wanted. He didn’t ignore my signal. One of his hands left my breasts and slid down past my stomach, under my panties and between my legs.

  Ah, yes, I think I said aloud, when his fingers slid between my wet folds. And when he pushed one finger inside my pussy, I gasped then dropped my head down, pressing my lips against the top of his head, inhaling the fresh scent of his shiny dark hair, thinking how sexy the few streaks of grey were at the front of his hairline.

  A second finger followed the first. I was ready. More. Needed more.

  All the while, my unnamed emotion grew more powerful, like some alien thing trying to force its way out of me. More. I thought it was saying. More.

  So I stuck my hands between us, searching out and finding the top button of Gibson’s jeans. I fumbled there, trying desperately to release the button.

  He leaned back, the air feeling cold on my nipples where his hot mouth had been. He pulled his fingers out of my pussy and closed them on my hands instead.

  He looked at me evenly and said, “No.”

  I said, “Yes,” grabbed one of his hands and tried to force it back between my legs.

  His hand didn’t budge. He said, “Not yet. I’ll say when.”

  I shook my head. He didn’t understand the urgency, I thought. He didn’t get it. I said, “Now.”

  Then I struggled against him some more.

  Gibson truly didn’t understand. He looked amused. He grabbed both of my hands and yanked them behind my back as easily as if I weren’t trying to fight him at all.

  I struggled to break his hold, twisted back and forth, and said, “Now,” again.

  He grinned at me. “This is new. Where’d you get your claws, little cat?”

  Without a moment’s thought or hesitation, I blurted out, “I earned them.”

  Gibson’s grin instantly fell away. Time turned sluggish on me. His expression slowly morphed into one of sadness, understanding maybe ... then certainly regret.

  He said, softly, “Yes, you would have had to.”

  Whatever emotion it was that had been driving me seemed to burst wide open then, spilling out of me in an horrific rush. My gaze locked with Gibson’s, my blood roaring in my veins and my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Oh, God, what was this?

  I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and I thought, no, not that. I wouldn’t be doing that, not right now, not with this man. Not ever, if I could help it.

  I sat there, paralyzed by the force of whatever it was that was pouring through and out of me. I couldn’t look into Gibson’s eyes anymore, couldn’t bear seeing what I saw there for a moment longer. I closed my eyes. Tried to breathe. Willed the flood to stop.

  And it did, eventually. As the unnamed feelings left me, I returned to myself. My heartbeat slowed and my breathing steadied. I realized Gibson was holding my hands gently between his own, in front of me rather than behind me now.

  I opened my eyes, looked down at my hands, then up into Gibson’s face.

  He studied me calmly, tenderly perhaps, but that couldn’t be right. I’d never known him to be tender. Couldn’t see why he’d start now.

  I mumbled, “Sorry,” though I couldn’t have said why I was apologizing. It just seemed like the thing to say.

  He said, “Nonnie ...”

  But he didn’t get to finish whatever it was he was going to say.

  A loud knock sounded on the door. I jerked my head around as if I could see through the door to discover who was there.

  Another knock, then I heard Elaine’s voice calling, “Nonnie! Are you okay? Open up or I’m coming in.”

  I muttered a quick, “Hell!” then yelled out, “Coming!”

  I was off Gibson’s lap and grabbing up my robe in a split second. I fumbled with the annoying garment, trying to get my arms into the sleeves as fast as I could, discovering the thing was inside out, starting over, finally getting it on, cinching the tie around my waist.

  I ran to the door, glancing back at Gibson. The man was leisurely buttoning up his shirt. I stood with my hand on the doorknob, impatiently waiting for what seemed like forever as Gibson put himself back to rights.

  As soon as he finished, I opened the door to Elaine.

  I stepped back as Elaine breezed past me.

  She said, “Are you sure you’re okay? You were acting a little funny before and I thought maybe you needed ...” she noticed Gibson when he stood up from the sofa, “to ... talk. Then maybe not.”

  Gibson said, “It’s good to see you again, Elaine.”

  “You, too,” she said, shooting a sideways questioning glance at me. “So, looks like Nonnie’s okay, so I’ll just ...” she took a few steps backward, toward the door, “head on back outside ...”

  Gibson’s face was as polite and impassive as ever, and it was obvious he wasn’t going to stop Elaine’s exit. I had other ideas.

  I said, “No, don’t go. Gibson just stopped by to say that he enjoyed our performance tonight. Isn’t that right?” I gave him a hard look.

  He met my gaze. One beat. Two beats. Three beats. Then, “That’s right,” he said. He smiled at Elaine. “I thought your play was well done. I enjoyed it very much.”

  Elaine couldn’t hide her pleasure at his compliment. “Aww, that little old thing. We just threw it together at the last second.”

  Gibson smiled. “Of course. I guess I should be going.”

  He raised his eyebrows, turning his statement into something of a question.

  I said, “Thanks for stopping by. Glad you had a good time.”

  He nodded, said his polite goodbyes to Elaine and me, then left the room.

  Elaine shut the door behind him and made a face at me.

  She said, “I am so sorry. I had no idea someone was in here with you. If I had known, I never would have interrupted.”

  I shrugged. “It was nothing. Really. You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Come on, girl. That man is crazy about you.”

  I had to laugh. What an absurd idea. “I don’t know how you got that impression.”

  “Really. Gonna play it that way, are you?”

  “I swear I’m not. I don’t think that man has ever been crazy about anyone. Least of all, me. He doesn’t have it in him.”

  Elaine propped her hands on her hips. “Every single time tonight, during our scene, when I looked at him, he was staring at you. In fact, every time I’ve seen the man, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing between us, except maybe some minor attraction. I don’t know.”

  “Minor attraction,” Elaine repeated, looking dubious.

  I sea
rched around the room for my clothes, thinking it was high time I got dressed. “I could never get involved with someone like him, Elaine. No matter how hot you think he is, underneath all those good looks he’s actually a cold person. You know what he did to Michael and his family, how he wouldn’t help them when they needed him.”

  Elaine sighed and flopped down in a chair, watching me passively for a while as I found my bag, pulled out my clothes and began to dress myself.

  I sat on the edge of the recliner to put my shoes on, and noticed a bottle of water on the floor near the sofa. I must have dropped it at some point when Gibson was kissing me.

  Elaine said, “I’m going to warn you right now that there’s four single fellows out there who are lined up at our table waiting for you. They all want introductions.”

  I couldn’t help but be flattered to hear that. I asked, “Do you know any of them?”

  “Nope. Not really.”

  I shrugged. “Oh well. That’s okay.”

  “You told me you don’t want to get back into another serious relationship.”

  I said, “That makes it sound like what Michael and I had was serious. Believe me, it wasn’t.”

  “If you say so, honey. Here’s the thing, though. If you just want to fool around with someone, I don’t see why you need to gamble on some unknowns like the guys waiting in the club.”

  I sat back in the recliner and looked at Elaine. “I don’t see how I have any other options. You already snapped up Ron.”

  She grinned. “True. Have you thought about fooling around with Gibson Reeves?”

  “Ugh. Not him again. I’ve had enough of him tonight.”

  “Just think about it. You say you don’t like him, but that you’re attracted to him. That could be a good thing.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  She leaned forward, really getting into it now. “Seriously. Think about it. You want to keep things light, but you also want lots of action from a powerful Dom. I say Gibson Reeves can give you what you’re looking for.”

  I shook my head slowly. Nutty woman.

  She continued, “You don’t like him, so you won’t get serious with him. Everything will just be physical. And you’ve been with him before, so you know he follows the rules of safe, sane and consensual. See? He’s perfect.”