by Tessa Bailey
Unfortunately, with her work completed for the morning, she didn’t have anything left to distract herself with. She hadn’t heard from Oliver since leaving him at the gala Saturday night, nor should she expect to hear from him. He’d gone home with that girl who’d looked ready to swallow him in one bite and probably rolled out of her bed an hour later not even remembering what they’d done together in the conference room just hours before. Too bad she didn’t have that luxury. Even keeping herself busy with work, she felt the residual effects of Oliver. Whisker burn on her cheek. Sore hips where he’d gripped and jerked her body, impaled it with his own. Sensitivity between her legs that wouldn’t seem to fade. Every time she crossed them, the silk of her panties would slide over her core just enough to make her catch her breath. Think of how he’d felt inside her. Relive it.
In the conference room Saturday night, she hadn’t been able to squash the feeling that they had a…bond. One that none of his other flings could boast. She’d oscillated between maybe, just maybe he feels something for me and get real, kind of like an adult version of he loves me, he loves me not. She’d gone into these lessons knowing the score, but somewhere between that first shot of ouzo and their dance floor kiss, she’d started to feel more than the usual attraction to Oliver. As far back as she could remember, his very presence had heated her, made her aware of her body, but she’d never let it go beyond that. Purely out of self-preservation.
Now? She was falling for him. Hard. Without a parachute.
Knowing he’d made plans to go home with another girl, she’d still come dangerously close to showing her hand. But it matters now, Eliza? He’d asked her the question on her way out the door. She’d said no, when the word yes had been a bomb ready to explode past her lips. If he’d split a cab with her, she would have invited him in and probably made a fool out of herself. He didn’t do waffles the morning after a one-night stand.
They weren’t a one-night stand, however. They were a three-night stand. She had one more night with Oliver before he patted her on the head and walked away. If, of course, she hadn’t managed to send him running for the commitment-free hills last night with her obvious jealousy. She might have agreed to see him exclusively until the lessons ended, but he’d made no such promise.
If there was a tiny spark, perhaps one that Oliver had brought to life inside of her, telling her she needed to fight for him…she had to ignore it. Yes, she’d pursued her dreams in New York because she didn’t want to look back on her life and realize she’d lived it according to someone else’s terms. She’d come here to live and never felt more alive than when she was with Oliver. But making a play for his heart would be reckless. She wouldn’t come out the other side unscathed.
The tuna sandwich she’d packed in case Oliver canceled their lunch date caught her eye. It was noon, and she hadn’t gotten a phone call or text. He must have changed his mind. Maybe it was for the best. Even if she had worn her best dress and stiletto pumps. Even if she’d worn a thong that basically consisted of two shoelaces sewn together. Jerk. Her stomach sunk to her knees as she reached for the sandwich.
Eliza’s hand paused in mid-air when a murmur of female voices swelled outside her office door. A frown marred her brow. An interior design firm’s halls were never quiet, but this disruption in the force had a different tone. High-pitched giggles and chairs scraping back.
Then she heard him. Oliver.
“So this is where all the gorgeous women of New York are hiding. I’ve been looking in all the wrong places.”
More shameless cackling.
What is he doing here? She found herself smoothing her hair and smacked her own hand away. After forcing herself to wait an additional ten seconds, Eliza rose and poked her head out the door. What she saw caused a bittersweet smile to tug at the corner of her mouth, even as it broke her heart a little more. Oliver resembled Moses parting the Red Sea, except her co-workers had replaced the body of water, and Oliver happened to be a lot hotter than Moses. Hot didn’t really cover it, actually. He’d gone above and beyond his usual panty-dropping playboy look today. His navy suit was tailored to outline every inch of his muscled, athletic body. He looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower, as if you’d find that hard body dripping wet if you ripped off his shirt. She has pretty sure he’d neglected to shave on purpose. Even twenty feet away from him, his scent hooked around her neck and threatened to drag her toward him.
Their gazes collided across the office. And there it was. The look. I’m already inside you, babe.
Oh, Jesus. She tried not to be obvious about pressing her legs together when a rush of dampness made her panties feel uncomfortably tight. Silky. Her breath sounded like waves crashing in her ears. She commanded her feet to move, bring her back into the office, but his eyes kept her pinned to the spot outside her door. Holy frosted cookies. If he made a move on her right now, she’d raise the white flag of surrender so fast she’d give herself whiplash. Honestly, she should have been ashamed of herself. He’d been with someone else Saturday night and she still wanted him just as bad. More.
“There’s the girl I came to see.” Even his voice sounded different. Gruff. Filled with intent. “You ladies don’t mind me kidnapping her for lunch, do you?” He started toward her. “I’m starving.”
Two woman fell back into their seats.
“Take her,” someone said. “Take her good.”
Eliza finally managed to back into the office. She had no choice. His expression said that when he reached her, he would tear her dress off with his bare hands. Witnesses would be bad. As soon as he cleared the door, he kicked it shut. Backed against her desk, clutching at the edge with her hands, she could only watch him approach with a mixture of awe and appreciation. And something else she really needed to stop feeling.
Oliver planted his hands on either side of her on the desk. An appreciative sound hummed in his throat as he leaned in and buried his nose against her neck. He took a deep breath and groaned. Had he just smelled her? Why did that arouse her so freaking much? “This is just lunch, Eliza. You’re making it very difficult in that dress. I’d barely have to lift it to get inside you.”
She bit back a moan. “Why does it have to be just lunch?”
He ignored her question. “I need you to get up on the desk and spread your legs. Let me see what I’m missing today. Give me something to work for, babe.”
Her confusion was eclipsed by heat, her legs so shaky she couldn’t move to obey. Oliver’s throat worked as he took in her predicament. Oddly, Eliza got the impression he wanted to refrain from touching her, but she couldn’t understand why. Finally, he took a deep breath and boosted her onto the desk, before stepping back quickly. Like she’d burned him. “Oliver?”
“Show me.” His hungry gaze was fixated on her thighs. “Show me my property. Now.”
A shudder wracked her entire body. She understood now. This was her final lesson. The man in front of her was Oliver, the Dominant. Her instructor. Only one half of the Oliver she was in danger of falling for. Oh screw it, she’d fallen. Might as well admit it. She’d fallen for both sides of him, but while his need was real—you couldn’t fake that kind of intensity—it wasn’t reserved for her alone. He’d just called her his property, but it was all part of the illusion. She needed to remember that.
Awareness did nothing to cull the raging lust she felt for him. A pulse throbbed between her thighs. Thighs that were dying to spread for him. Always. Keeping her attention on his face so she could memorize his reaction, Eliza slowly pushed her thighs wide, as far as they would go.
A strangled groan ripped past his lips. “Wet for me, are you? God, I’d like to slap your clit right through that silk. You look like you’d come from five good smacks.”
“Do it,” she whispered unevenly.
He growled. “Don’t tempt me.”
“I thought that was the point.”
“Not entirely. Not anymore.” His handsome features were tight as he leaned in and pr
essed their foreheads together. “I didn’t go home with that silly girl Saturday night, Eliza. Now answer me honestly or I will punish your sexy, lying mouth.” He gripped her chin and tilted it up. The fire in his eyes only served to make her more frantic. For his touch. For his instructions. All of it. “Do you honestly believe that after your tight pussy wrung me dry I’d want something inferior?”
A wave of dizzying want made her eyes flutter closed. If he didn’t have a grip on her chin, she would have swayed off the desk. “I…I don—”
“The correct answer is no. No. Say it immediately.”
“No.”
He shook his head. “I want the whole thing. Say ‘my tight pussy wrung Oliver dry and now he’s ruined.’ Say it three times.”
Eliza obeyed. Every time she said the elicit words, the quickening in her belly increased until her hips were moving in a circular motion on the desk. When she finished saying the words a third time, she waited breathlessly for what would come next.
Oliver’s cheekbones had reddened during her recitation, his breathing deepening until it sounded like he’d run a mile. “That’s very good, Eliza. But I saw your face when I walked in here. You don’t want to want me? Is that right?” A muscle jumped in his cheek when she glanced down. “Well, I plan to make sure you spend the entire day that way. Wanting me. Needing me. Until you get used to it.”
Anticipation buzzed in her bloodstream, but it was tempered with nerves. “How are you going to do that?”
“We’re going to eat lunch, goddammit.”
Chapter Fifteen
Oliver paused at Eliza’s office door and let his easygoing mask slip back into place. He’d never had any trouble shedding his dominant side, but today it had roared out of him without warning, like an uncaged beast. He’d walked into the office and seen Eliza standing at her door, stunning and fresh, yet looking almost sad to see him. Oh, there had been longing in her eyes, too, but that didn’t mean anything to him without her happiness. He wanted it all.
A vision of her bounding toward him through the mass of co-workers and jumping into his arms flickered in his head, then stayed lit. He wanted that scene to play out in real life so bad, he almost turned and dropped to his knees in front of Eliza so he could beg.
The idea to withhold sex under the guise of punishment had come to him on the fly. A reason to push off that final lesson while still spending time with her. Time in which she could really see him. Time for her to realize he had more to offer than pleasure. Now, he wondered if he’d been shot with a crazy dart on the way over. His poor girl looked ready to combust. It would take so little effort to reach into her panties and stroke her delicious clit so she wouldn’t hurt anymore. Could he allow her to be in pain for any length of time? The idea made him sweaty and anxious. Angry, almost. Eliza should never be anything less than satisfied all fucking day, every fucking day. Especially when she was within reaching distance.
Stick to the plan.
Right, the plan. He hadn’t come here to back Eliza into her office and force her to say words that would normally never pass her lips, but the urge had been undeniable. One look at her in that red strapless dress and the possessive instincts she’d awaked in him crowded out reason.
Now that he’d gotten his He-Man spiel out of the way, he needed to refocus. He only had one shot at proving himself worthy.
“Are you okay?”
Just three softly spoken words from her and his dick hardened again. Christ, this was either going to be the worst or best lunch break in history. “Yeah. I’m just wondering if my delivery got here, yet.”
“Delivery?”
He nodded and pushed open her office door, chuckling when Eliza made a sound like whuuuh? Several waiters in crisp black uniforms went desk to desk with trays, setting down covered plates in front of Eliza’s wide-eyed coworkers. The aroma of gourmet food filled the space, drawing sighs of appreciation from the ladies and a handful of gentleman. They were all looking at one another in disbelief, shrugging as if to say, I’m not going to question a free, catered meal. Mama didn’t raise no fool.
Eliza came to stand beside him. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t want to chance them not letting me take you to lunch.” He looked down at her and had to restrain himself from kissing her. Had her lips gotten fuller overnight? “I figured pasta from Barbuto would give me my best shot.”
She tried to appear reproachful, but he could detect a smile. “So this is bribery?”
“Total bribery. Any vegans in the house?”
“Five.”
“Damn, I guessed four.” He took her hand and started to weave his way across the office floor, Eliza in tow. “Come on, bunny. One of those vegans will be forced to share and I don’t want you in the middle of the bloodshed.”
They managed to make their way inside the elevator without being noticed, but immediately he was facing another dilemma. Being alone with Eliza in a confined space. She gave him an odd look when he positioned her in one corner and took the opposite. They’d only made it one floor when the door pinged open and a group of businessmen pushed inside, half of them rattling off numbers into cell phones. Either he stood next to Eliza or one of the suits crowded her against the wall. As in, not happening. Quickly, Oliver joined Eliza in the corner and braced his hands on either side of her head. Oh God. So goddamn close. He’d only have to dip his head and his mouth would be touching hers in all its perfection. She expected him to kiss her, too. He could tell by the way she subtly wet them and looked up at him through her eyelashes.
Desperate for a distraction, Oliver looked around the elevator, hoping one of the businessmen would be picking his teeth or have massive sweat stains under his arms. Anything that might douse his urge to bang Eliza against the elevator wall. Nope, didn’t work. In fact, it backfired. Two men leered at Eliza appreciatively, then gave him the ol’ head-cocking, eyebrow lift. The silent dude salute that basically said nice one, man. Jesus. Why did that give him the urge to shout, “That’s right. Mine.” She was there with him, looking up at him. This possessiveness didn’t appear to be something he could control, so he’d have to get used to it. If she gave him the damn chance.
When moments passed and he didn’t kiss her, Eliza gazed down at the floor. Disappointed?
No, he wouldn’t have that. He might have a no touching rule for the day, but there were no restrictions on talking. Reminding her of how amazing they were together physically couldn’t hurt, right? Careful not to make contact, Oliver moved his body closer until they were an inch apart. Just enough to feel her body heat. He watched the pulse in her neck beat faster the closer he came. Not licking that fluttering flesh caused him actual pain.
Trying to ignore the tightening in his briefs, he leaned in close so he could whisper in her ear. “Everyone in this elevator knows I’m fucking you. How do you feel about that?”
She gulped in oxygen, causing her breasts to graze his chest. Fuuuck. “I don’t care.”
“No?” She swayed her hips forward to meet his, and he shoved them away with a curse, pinning them to the wall with shaky hands. “If you don’t care then by all means, keep looking at me like that.” He raised his voice to just above a whisper, curious to see how she’d react if there was a chance someone could overhear. “They all wish they could have you, moaning and grinding in that frilly come and get it dress, but everything underneath is mine. All mine.”
“Yes.” Eyelids fluttering, Eliza followed suit, her husky voice raising an octave. “All yours.”
Unbelievable. His girl was game for anything. Brave, unapologetic. Magnificent. Both cell phone calls had ended behind him and heavy silence reined. Two instincts warred inside Oliver. The instinct insisting he keep the knowledge of her to himself and the instinct that this exhibitionism was turning her on like nothing else ever had. Same as Friday night. None of these men would ever lay a finger on her. He had to keep telling himself that as he spoke just a hint louder. “You sound like a girl who wants a re
ward, Eliza.”
“Only if you’re the one giving it to me.” A mischievous light sparkled in her eyes. Very subtly, she reached between them and traced a finger down the ridge of his hard cock. Oliver’s mouth went dry, and he barely managed to contain a growl. It took him a moment to realize his thumbs were digging into her hips bones, took considerable effort not to push more firmly against her hand. God, she was enjoying this, wasn’t she? He must not be hiding the conflict inside of him at all because she looked triumphant after calling his bluff. She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and exposed her neck, tilted her head to one side. “What’s it going to be Oliver?”
She’d said it out loud, not even bothering to keep her voice low. Behind him, the elevator doors rolled open to reveal the lobby. No one moved.
“Excuse us,” Oliver said through clenched teeth. As soon as the men piled out of the elevator, muttering to each other or under their breath, he dragged Eliza out by the hand and led her to a semi-private corner of the bustling lobby. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, gaze bright. There wasn’t anything more beautiful on the planet than her at that moment. Get her somewhere private and fuck her until she can’t see straight. That’s what he wanted to do. So damn bad. He wanted to praise her for being so free in the elevator. For letting go. But there was so much more at stake. The privilege of showing up at her office and taking her to lunch whenever he wanted. The privilege of sleeping beside her. Waking her up with his body. He took a deep breath and attempted to rein himself in. “I told you upstairs that you’d spend the day needing me, Eliza. I told you the rule and now you’re trying to break it. Should I make you wait longer? Three days? A week?” As long as I need to convince you I’m worth a damn.