Abby took a deep breath and stepped into the room, the air hitching in her throat. She glanced at his hands that were folded in front of him.
Mr. Caden Dupree sat behind an enormous carved oak desk and got up to come around when he saw her. "Well my, my, isn't this a fortuitous day."
She thought she would have wanted to hug him for his gentle care of the woman, but instead, at the look in his eyes, the hairs on her neck stood on end as he escorted her into his lair.
He offered her a seat with a wave of his arm, and she wondered where the loving man who just comforted his best friend's widow was. Somewhere deep inside, she was sure, but right now she had to find out which side of this multifaceted man she now dealt with.
During the day at work he looked polished and the complete gentleman, far different than the Caden Dupree she saw the other night. Sitting at her table that night after she teased him with his sexual reading, he looked as if he were much less dangerous despite what she'd witnessed. Now she had the feeling she taunted a lion instead of a kitten.
As she sunk into the buttery leather he perched himself on the edge of his desk. Leather bound ledgers were set open and a filigree silver pen sat waiting by its side.
He studied her as she took in every detail. "To what to I owe this delightful visit?"
There was a knowing gleam in his eye, and she realized he thought she came to take him up on his offer. Her hands fisted in her lap. She didn't know whom she was angrier with, herself or him. Because as furious as she was for him assuming such, she would have succumbed had he made an attempt to seduce her, but he had made his loathing of her profession very clear. Again, his conflicting facets. As curious as she was, apparently his assessment of her hadn't changed.
She stood up. "Mr. Frist told me you have a meeting shortly so I'll be quick," she opened her beaded reticule and took out the five dollars, handing it to him. "Here. I wanted to return this."
She got a perverse satisfaction in the shock on his face. Good, let him have to rethink his assumptions of her.
He didn't reach out to take it. "I gave that to you for your insightful reading." "As well as that may be, I feel the need to return it." "I refuse to accept." She glared at him. "I'm a charity case if you remember." Her curiosity was quickly turning to anger. What infuriated her more was that sparring with him didn't diminish her desire. If anything it heightened it. "All the more reason for you to keep it." Her mouth dropped open and she gasped. "I insist on returning it to
you." "No." He crossed his arms over his chest. There was a sharp rap at the door. "Yes!" Mr. Frist's head appeared as if disembodied. "Your meeting, sir." "I'm in negotiations, Frist." "Yes, sir, but your appointment is here. I settled them in the-" "In a moment, Frist." "Yes, sir." He pulled his turtle head back and closed the door. Mr. Dupree focused his burning glare on her and she thought for a moment she could still slip out the door after Frist, but he held her pinned with his gaze. Why wouldn't he just let her do this? "Mr. Dupree—" "You may call me Caden." She sniffed. If vipers could grin, they would look like him. "It's polite to return the invitation." Her chin lifted. She knew he was playing her by insulting her manners but decided to see where he was leading. "You may call me Miss Drummond."
His eyes flared, and she stepped back. "The other night you had some interesting things to say about my life."
Her stomach flipped. Exactly the conversation she was hoping not to have. But she followed suit, didn't she? Thankfully she was prepared. "And?" She folded her arms. "And I would like to hear more about what you see in my palm. I'll pay you another five dollars, and you may tell your mother that you gave me a longer reading and earned the money."
That was not what she expected at all. She thought he would take his opportunity to take advantage of her spontaneous stupidity in teasing him inappropriately. She prepared herself to be yelled at. He might have ranted and raved, but him enticing her, asking for her to seduce him again…
Her heart sunk, and she examined her dull black boots. Once he heard her reasoning he would never want to see her again anyway, which for some reason made her sad. She found him intriguing, not scary at all, although she did underestimate him. She took a deep breath. "I'm giving the money back because I took advantage of you." He looked shocked. And she was sure that didn't occur often. "How did you take advantage of me?" This was absurd. The man was an arrogant, rude snob making her explain. Why couldn't he just accept the money and her apology and be done with it? She wriggled like a worm on a hook, but in the end what she had done was unethical, and he deserved his answer. Anyway, she needed to be honest. Not for him, but for herself. For her mother, who though peculiar, had an ironclad morality pertaining to her and her daughter's abilities. It didn't mean that she had to like it, though. "I used the reading to take advantage of you." "I understand that. How did you take advantage of me?" She blushed and swallowed feeling like she had sand in her throat.
"Your sexual reading." She peeked up from under the rim of her hat to see his eyes had darkened. His anger she could deal with. His desire was even more powerful. It provoked an even more elemental reaction in her. The one that made her masturbate last night. A reaction she didn't want him to see. "You made me mad when you called me a charity case. I used your hand to embarrass you. That was against my ethics as a reader. My mother doesn't know. My sister saw you give me the money. "And what did your sister say?" Abby shook her head. "She's young, she doesn't understand." "Fine, I'll take your five dollars back. But I want you to give me another reading, right now." He walked behind his desk and swiveled the lamp towards her. "But…you have an appointment." "He can wait, believe me." He sat down and put his hand, palm up,
under the light of the lamp. It would be the end then. She would give him one more reading, and when she walked out her conscious would be clear. But her desire would become unbearable.
Not seeing him ever again would be a good thing, too, because he had set all of her senses on fire. For the past few days just the idea that he might be walking down the street and she would glimpse him made her heart pound faster. And now, of all things he wanted her to do a reading for him. A shiver ran through her knowing she would have his hand in hers again. It had never happened before, but when she read his hands her skin felt as if his touch were burning her like hot sugar. Stroking his palms made her want him to return the caresses and much more. Especially now that she knew under the gruffness there was a sterling heart.
She scooted forward and closed her eyes for a moment centering herself before reading. Her breathing calmed but as she reached out to take his hand her heart started to hammer.
It took a few moments, but when she finally thought she had herself under control she opened her eyes to see his green ones burning into her.
She made the wrong decision. She should have run out after Frist left. * * * * He couldn't believe she showed up and walked into his office. It was funny that she came to return the money. Anyone else would have kept it, no matter if they took advantage of him or not. People liked to assume that he used hundreds for handkerchiefs.
She took his hand into hers, and again all the blood in his body flowed south. Her hair was different today. Looser. It pillowed around her face,
and soft ringlets curled at her nape. She tugged his fingers down and smoothed his palm. Each time she
drew a finger down he got harder. "Funny, you're a banker and your hand says that you're good with
money." Her voice was rough and low, catching on words. "That's good, then." "You're very reliable. You love details." She dragged her fingertip down the length of his middle finger, and he shifted in his seat. "Your knuckles are wrinkled and apparent. You like to analyze things. You penetrate situations deeply with logic and thought. All of your traits make you a good banker." "I want the other reading." She met his eyes over their hands, a question on her face. "The other reading. Like the party. A sexual reading." She broke their gaze and glanced behind her. "If I do this, you'll never ask me to do anoth
er? You'll take your
money back and never speak to anyone about this?" "I promise." She studied him and took a deep breath. "You have a long thumb. That means you have an abundance of sexual energy and a forceful personality." "You told me that already. Tell me something I don't know." She bent his fingers back towards her and studied his lines, tracing them with her fingers. "You have many whorls. That means you are an original thinker and that you don't like listening to rules. You're sexually adventurous."
He thought she would have left by now, that he would have scared her away, but she sat there knowing what he was doing, and her strength made him respect her. And want her more than he did before. But he wanted more out of her, he needed to know that she wouldn't back down from him. He wanted an equal partner in all things, in and out of the bedroom. "Would you like to be sexually adventurous?" "Mr. Dupree, I have to finish." Could he tell her now that he wanted to hear her yell his name while
she came? "I asked you to call me Caden." "Mr. Dupree—" "You're giving me a sexual hand reading and you're calling me Mr.
Dupree?" Damn. He should have spoken less forcefully. Her mouth hardened into a line then she huffed and rolled her eyes.
"Caden…" "See, that wasn't so hard." She pulled his hand closer to her and dragged a finger down the outside of his palm, sending shudders through his stomach. "Your union line is broken and faint. You've had a relationship but it was not a lasting one, and it didn't mean that much to you."
He sat back in his chair but left his hand in hers. His friends knew about Beatrice, but with Abby not moving in his circles, she couldn't have known. Or could she?
She traced his pinky up and over the tip, back down to its web with a feather touch, and his erection strained his pants, "You have a long Mercury finger," her voice dropped lower, "and that coupled with your large Mount of Venus means that you are a good lover. Mercury is your communication finger and you can't be a good lover without communicating. Yours also curves toward your Apollo finger which can mean that you're seductive."
With that he pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed, lingering his lips against her warm skin as he tasted her palm.
Chapter Four
Abby closed her eyes at his hot breath on her open hand. Passion rushed through her body, pooling between her legs and making his every breath a whisper stroke against her skin.
With his lips hovering over her, his tongue brushed her, and her breath caught in her throat. All at once his tongue was wet and dry, hot at first, then cool as his breath hit the moisture. A moan slipped out, and she looked at the back of his head over her hand, his soft hair with no lacquer.
He still held her hand as he walked around the desk, and pulled her up to him, pressing her against him. The heat in her sex grew to a tight pull, and she leaned in.
He ran his hands up her back and cradled her head as he brought his lips down on hers, sweeping his tongue into her shocked mouth, then teasing with nibbles and dips. Her stomach tightened and anticipation gathered.
Her body seemed as if it were on fire, sizzles jumping over her skin, and she slid her hands around his neck to draw him closer to her. She wanted him inside her, her reactions to his touches after her fantasy being too explosive to control. Even if she could, she didn't want to.
He kissed her again, his desire callous and raw. She arched her hips and met his erection with passion of her own, not believing the moment even as she did. He groaned into her mouth and let her head go, instead running his hands up her waist to the underside of her breasts, trying to cup them through her corset. "So passionate," he murmured into her hair. She couldn't think, her mind was flooded by his touches, by his tongue nipping and kissing her neck, under her ear. She wanted him, too, his skin under her hands and liquid, the way she felt.
"What can we do?" she said, hanging her head back so he could kiss it more. "Whatever you want to do." "I want my hands on you, on your skin." He bumped his erection against her and groaned, then walked her backwards, never breaking contact, holding her steady, until they reached the door. He leaned her against the hard oak, with one hand caressing her, whilehe licked and sucked, and with the other he slid the bolt.
As the lock clicked she shivered. At being in the room alone with him, and with knowing what would happen while they were there. That she wanted it just as much as he did, and she had no care where they were.
She didn't know what brought her to this decision. Yes she did. The last man promised her marriage, but his time she didn't know what overwhelmed her senses, she wanted him with a matched intensity. And she knew he was different than he made himself out to be. Especially what she saw outside the office door. In his hands were her answers. Not many times before had she so truly believed in what she read. Even though his persona belied what she saw, his actions, his strength, his generosity—they were the truth of him, and that was the Caden she wanted.
There were other things in his hands that she didn't tell him about. Not that she believed all of it herself. But if it were to be fully realized, then his pain and his depth ran deeper than he showed. He'd overcome them, making his character stronger than most. She wanted to touch that part of him. She wanted to know the pain and hurt that shaped him. Not for pity, but for pride. He had his own morals, and they were chiseled in the trials of his life. She was willing to chance that this once, the truth lay in what she read.
She cupped her hands on either side of his face and kissed her desire and yielding, not just to him, but to the wanting within her. He pushed her harder against the door, pinning her with his body and hands. The mitered oak panels stiff behind her, holding her up.
With a low rumble he pulled away and, grabbing two handfuls of her chemise, petticoats and skirt, started to lift, bunching it at her sides and reaching underneath. He yanked, popping the buttons on her hips, and with a slight whisper her drawers fell. Cool air chilling her thighs was quickly replaced with warm fingers tracing the bits of skin left bare by her stockings. Her breath left her in pants as he stroked closer and closer, slowly reaching her patch of curls. Her heart pounded in her chest and the fire that burned between her legs spread over her body, radiating so that even his breath against her neck sent shots of pleasure skipping over her skin.
Never before had she ever felt both exposed and over clothed at the same time. She wanted her underpinnings, dress, and corset to disappear but closed her eyes at the eroticism of him taking her like this. With her bared legs and sex in his view, the perfume of her desire in her nose, while the rest of her was bound in cloth.
The strength of his body left her and she sagged forward, her eyes still closed. He chuckled and she heard the rustle of clothing hitting the floor. When she opened her eyes he'd removed his jacket and collar and was taking out his cufflinks. He unbuttoned his shirt, but left it on and closed the space between them again. "Your skin. At least as much as I can give you now." She reached in under his shirt with her fingers splayed and ran them up his chest. The warm muscle firm and shuddering under her touch as she did.
He smelled like nothing she had reference for. Because he didn't use pomade his smell was unique, something spicy and of warm skin. She put her nose against and inhaled, then touched her tongue to him, darting at his nipple. He groaned and rested his forehead against the door. She didn't intend to, it just happened, The taste of him combined with his smell was more of an aphrodisiac than she could withstand. She would have licked him all over had more skin been bared. In her mind she gave him long, dragging licks down his thighs and over his stomach with the tip of her tongue, making him shiver.
More skin, her skin and his touching head to toe, that's what she would like. She still ran her hands over his stomach and his chest, but paused over the nubs of his nipples. Back and forth she caressed them with her thumbs until his breath came in short bursts. She lifted his shirt and touched them with her tongue until his hips bumped hers rhythmically.
This was the man who minutes before tried to overshadow her with his pe
rsonality. Now he was vulnerable to her mouth and touch, waiting for her to ease him.
He unbuttoned her shirtwaist, untied her corset cover, and reached into her chemise to lift her breasts out of her corset. He drew a nipple into his mouth with a long pull, and with his other hand he stroked the other. She arched up to him, wanting more, threading her fingers through his hair and drawing him down harder on her.
With a pop he released it and she shivered at the cool air where his warm mouth had been. Then he drew the other in his mouth and ran his hand down to her thighs, curling around to the inner soft skin and teasing her open with feathery strokes. He found her pearl and circled it until she pushed herself onto his fingers in frantic anticipation. Her fantasy met reality and the real was so much more powerful. He slipped one finger up into her and then two all the while still circling her nub with his thumb and pumping until she moaned into his neck and stroked his erection.
He took his hand away from the side of her head and unbuttoned his pants, then unbuttoned his drawers, letting his cock rest against her inner thigh. She looked down at it and drew her finger down its length, circling the head and back down to the nest of curls at its base. He was so warm and smooth under her fingers, and jerked into her hand. Her muscles clenched at the sight of the dew on its tip, and her body hummed with tension.
She ran her tongue over her lips and when she looked up to his face his eyes were dark and hooded, his mouth strained.
Knowing that he wanted her, that she could arouse such passion in him, made her want him all the more. Even as his fingers glided effortlessly in and out of her, making her near delirious with need, the desire in his expression inflamed her more.
"Please," she whispered to him as she matched the movements of his fingers.
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