by Lynda Chance
He lifted one sardonic eyebrow.
She tried again. “I don’t think—”
“Sweetheart,” he said softly—almost too softly, and her pulse went skyrocketing again. “I’m not in the mood for an argument. If you continue to argue with me, I’m going to shut you up the way I want to—with my mouth on yours. The way I’m feeling right now—your pretty little hairdo won’t survive. Neither will your make-up. Possibly you don’t realize this, but I’ve been having a bit of trouble keeping my hands to myself. Now be a good girl and put the earrings on.”
Natalie had never liked being treated as a child, but the way his eyes moved over her body and then settled on hers, not to mention the words that came from his mouth, made her very aware that he didn’t see her as a child to take instruction. No, more like a subordinate employee he wanted to sleep with—or a potential lover who needed to understand, metaphorically speaking, who would be on top.
The thought of being under him was earth-shattering, mind-blowingly hot. But again, the thought of his dominant personality made her more than a little apprehensive. She was old enough to know where this was headed, and even with the twenty-thousand standing between them, she didn’t think she’d be able to withstand him if he made a real attempt to have her. At least, she wouldn’t be able to withstand him for long.
So, now, as she slipped the earrings into her lobes, the question of exactly what he expected in a sexual relationship was troubling to her. She knew she didn’t have near the experience he did, and while some—sexual concepts—were exciting—even titillating—to read about, living them firsthand didn’t appeal to her. Scared her shitless, in fact. She did not want it. At all. It was troubling her so much, she couldn’t stop the question when it popped from her mouth. “Are you kinky?”
His head snapped away from her ears to land on her eyes again. “What?”
“I’m sorry-it’s none of my business.”
“You want to make it your business?” His eyes flared. “Say the word, baby.”
“Never mind. I don’t know why I asked.”
His eyes narrowed on her, studying her. “What’s upsetting you?”
“Really. Never mind. I don’t know you well enough to ask—we’re not involved that way.”
“Okay. Here’s the deal. You ask me one question—I’ll answer it—but then, I get to ask you a question. Okay? We won’t take it any further than that.”
“All—all right.”
He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arm out behind her. “Ask.”
She dampened her dry lips with her tongue. “You seem dominant in the extreme. I just wanted to know—it scares me to think—I don’t want to—”
His expression grew incredulous as he interrupted her disjointed speech with a bark of laughter. “No, I’m not kinky. Not the way you’re thinking. You’ve been reading too much fiction.” His finger reached out and twirled around a lock of her hair as he spoke. “I admit that I like to be in control. When you make it to my bed—and you will—I imagine you’ll find I’m exactly the same as I am all the time. I don’t like to be argued with—I like things the way I like them. I’m a bit spoiled that way. I’m no different in bed.”
The lock of hair around his finger ran out of length and he began pulling on her—just forcefully enough that her torso twisted toward his and her hands fell on his chest, the distance between them gone. He continued, “No arguments in my bedroom. No arguments and we’ll get along fine. The door closes and you’re mine. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’d damn sure never hurt you—I’m going to treat you like a princess, baby, and you’ll never want to be anywhere else.” His gaze raked boldly over her and it took all of her concentration to maintain the few inches between them, and not let her arms fall completely over his chest.
She was already so totally infatuated with him that she was scared he was completely right. Once she made it to his bedroom, she’d never want to be anywhere else.
“Do you understand, Natalie?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. Now it’s my turn for a question.” His hand left her hair and moved down her shoulder to settle on the curve of her breast over her dress. His other arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her over him until her legs straddled his lap. He began caressing her with steady strokes. Natalie’s throat tightened as he peeled down a shoulder strap and bared a breast. She felt the cool evening air on her naked flesh.
He sucked in oxygen through his teeth as he glanced down at it. Looking back up into eyes that were glued to him, he slid his thumb over her nipple, lightly caressing it and bringing damp heat between her legs.
Her head began to drop down to his shoulder, but he anticipated her move and nudged her chin back up and then sank his mouth down over hers. His tongue moved deep into the recesses of her mouth and she began to squirm against him. Her breathing grew shallow to match his, and her pelvis pushed softly against him with a movement she couldn’t seem to control.
She moaned softly into his mouth, and at the sound, his fingers became rougher against her nipple, pinching and pulling her pink flesh. They kissed heatedly, and her heart thumped erratically in her chest, her proximity to him and his kisses going to her head and making her desire skyrocket out of control.
He lifted his mouth from hers, breathing raggedly, and took his hand from her breast and slid it unerringly down her side to fall on her thigh. He lifted her dress, slid his hand to the silk covering her mound and pushed the elastic aside. He cupped her wet heat from behind, sliding his finger through her slit and opening her up to him.
He teased her tight opening with his blunt finger and said in a raspy voice, “Look at me.”
Natalie raised her head from where it had fallen to his shoulder and opened her eyes. Tearing up her bottom lip with her teeth, she pushed against him, her movements frantic.
He continued the soft teasing with his finger, his eyes holding hers, but he didn’t say anything.
Natalie tried with only limited success to stop her hips from undulating against him. She attempted to distract him from the dangerous, erotic turn of the night. “I thought you were going to ask—ask me a question.”
“I am.”
Her womb clenched and a new flood of damp heat had her pushing against him again. “What?” she managed to ask in a whisper.
He held her eyes for one beat, two beats, and then three as he circled her wet opening. “You think I can make you come with one finger?” As he said it, his finger plunged inside.
The question and his finger sinking all the way inside her hit Natalie at once. The feeling was exquisite—unbelievably, undeniably exquisite. He pulled her up with the arm wrapped around her, and his mouth dropped to her exposed nipple, where he began sucking it in time with the finger that swirled inside of her. It was a dedicated assault on her senses, and whatever dark and wicked thing he was trying to accomplish, was working.
He licked her nipple, blew on it, and then began sucking it again as his finger began pumping into her, and then stilling on a spot deep within her, which he massaged with his blunt fingertip.
The feeling was electric. Currents of pleasure grabbed her and her head fell forward as she tried to stifle her scream as she was hit with spasms of release. Her body tightened, and sensation unlike any she’d ever experienced before enveloped her as she rode the tide of pleasure.
She came down slowly and her head dropped to his shoulder again.
“That’s it baby.” He slid his finger from her and held her head gently while she trembled in his arms. A long moment passed as she tried to calm her raging heart. Finally, he spoke against her ear. “Our relationship just changed, Natalie. The orgasm you just gave me—it’s a game changer. You understand?”
Her head lifted from his shoulder and she looked into eyes that he quickly hooded. She studied his closed features. “What do you want from me, Marco?” she asked softly, her body still trembling with after quakes of desire.
�
��You,” he said, his voice firm as he looked into her eyes.
She shifted, suddenly anxious in his arms. She was tempted. God knows she was tempted. That one word of his seemed so final, so very sure. She needed clarification—but she could barely get her throat to work. “Me?”
“Yes, you—in my bed.”
She licked her lips. “You said it would be a game changer. Would I still live with you? Live in your penthouse, I mean.”
“Without question. That won’t change.” His tone was adamant.
“So—you want a girlfriend?” she questioned.
He hesitated. “No. Not a girlfriend.”
“Then what?”
“I want—an arrangement.”
An arrangement? Who the hell put it that way? “What—what would this arrangement entail, exactly? What kind of arrangement?” Doubt and insecurity beat a loud drum in her head. “Friends with benefits?” she asked hopefully.
The look he gave her pierced through her heart. “We’re not friends, Natalie.” He dropped that small bomb into the quiet of the night with a smoldering heat in his voice.
Mixed emotions surged through her. She knew what he was inferring—that the sexual tension constantly between them didn’t allow for mere friendship. But a tiny river of fear was blending with the strong attraction she always felt when in his radius. A fear that was telling her she didn’t ever want to be this man’s enemy—and she felt sorry for anyone who got on his bad side. “Being friends isn’t bad. We could be friends as well as—” Her voice trailed off.
“No, Natalie—we can’t. Friendship is a tame emotion that doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the way you make me feel. I have no desire to unload on you about how my day went, or to sit beside you without touching and watch a damned movie. Those aren’t the things I want from you.”
She listened to his speech as her head swirled. She knew the gist of what he was leaving unsaid. All he wanted was to fuck her brains out. She remained silent while she digested what he’d told her so far.
He continued, “I want an escort to events like the one tonight—I want you—as my sexual partner—living with me so that I don’t have to go out in search of—relief.”
“What about the money I owe you—from the wreck?”
He ignored her question and asked one of his own, his thumb reaching out and swiping across her bottom lip, back and forth. “Do you want to sleep with me? Have you ever thought about what it would be like to be naked in my bed? Open yourself up to me? Let me take what I want—give you what you need?”
His gaze locked on hers, his thumb making rivers of molten need rush through her. Natalie became almost hypnotized with want. Sensual heat passed between them and her legs trembled as she tried to hold herself up over him. There was absolutely no doubt that she wanted to sleep with him. She’d have to be over ninety or a lesbian not to want him—and even then she’d probably be more than a little curious.
“Answer me, baby.”
“Yes, I’ve thought about it.”
His hand speared into her hair, holding her captive. “And? Is it what you want?”
“Yes.”
“It’s settled, then.”
“No—not yet. I’m not at all comfortable with the situation.”
“Here’s how we’ll play this out. The debt is null and void. If you make me a promise—tell me you’ll be exclusive to me—that’s the promise I want from you—I’ll let the debt go. It won’t be mentioned again.”
“That’s not right—I’d feel like I’m taking advantage of you—”
He cut her off with a rough laugh. “No, you won’t be. Take my word on that. I want you—only you, not your money, not your maid service.”
“If I make that promise, I don’t mind continuing to keep up the penthouse. It’s easy—not a problem—unless you’d rather I tried to find a job elsewhere?”
“No, don’t find a job. I’d rather you be at the penthouse when I need you. If the housekeeping isn’t too much for you, you can do it. I don’t like strangers in my home anyway.”
“All right. One more thing.” She swallowed. She didn’t know how to say this but it had to be part of the arrangement, so she was just going to spit it out. “The exclusivity bit you mentioned—it goes both ways? I can’t do this if it doesn’t.”
“You’re all I want.”
She studied his hooded expression. “Is that an agreement? You’ll be exclusive to me as well?”
“You’re going to have to learn to trust me, Natalie.” His face was carved from granite and his voice was flattened with disapproval.
Like you trust me? Trust me so much that you track my movements? “I hope I will trust you someday. For now—I’ll take your word if you give it to me.”
“You have it.” He stared at her unflinchingly—as if he meant it.
The car was pulling into a circular driveway and Natalie wanted to put this behind them and move on from here. “Okay.”
“Yes? You’re okay with everything? We have a deal?” He demanded to know.
Natalie’s head snapped back to him and studied the lean, closed-off features. A deal? He was calling the beginning of their relationship a deal? But then, he didn’t see it as a relationship—it was an arrangement to him. She needed to remember that if she wanted to protect herself—protect her heart.
“We have a deal.”
Chapter Seven
The venue where the charity event was being held was beautiful, and Natalie was pleased with her dress and overall appearance. She didn’t feel as if she stuck out like a sore thumb.
Two hours later, dinner had been served and speeches had been made and she felt as if she was having an out of body experience. She’d sat beside Marco the entire time and was profoundly glad she was left-handed. He’d stroked her right hand through most of the meal, holding it and caressing it, letting it go only long enough to drop his hand down to her thigh where he stroked her leg, moving the material up and out of his way.
He’d introduced her to the other occupants of the table and then began conversing almost exclusively with the other men, business topics mostly, only about a third of which she understood. But she never felt as if he was ignoring her. The opposite, in fact. Even though he said few words to her, and looked at her even less, she felt flush with his attention.
His body radiated a subtle tension as he sat next to her, and she knew it had to do with the effect she had on him. Every time the conversation moved to a subject that was inconsequential and didn’t take his whole concentration, his hand moved to her thigh where he clenched his fingers around her flesh, causing invisible tremors to pass down her spine.
As soon as the last speech was over and the band began to strike up, he turned to her, his dark eyes running over her and then searching her expression. “Do you want to stay and dance or can we get out of here?”
She swallowed hard and felt as if she were drowning under his spell. Oh, she wanted to go—the sooner the better. Her answer was cut off in her throat by an older couple, well into their seventies, as they walked to their table and turned Marco’s attention from her. He stood, shook the man’s hand, and kissed the papery cheek of the older woman with an actual smile on his face that radiated true warmth.
“Mona—George. Nice to see you. I’d like you to meet Natalie Lambert.” He pulled Natalie from her seat by the hand until she stood next to him. “Natalie, this is George and Mona Lancaster, my favorite clients.” He said this last bit with a smile and a shot of what to Natalie sounded like tenderness toward the older couple, and her insides melted a bit.
Mona Lancaster was smiling, a knowing, almost maternal smile as she held out her hand to Natalie. “Nice to meet you, dear.”
“You, too,” Natalie responded as she shook their hands.
“We’ve been doing business with Donati’s since the early seventies—before you were even born. Isn’t that right, Marco?”
“Yes, sir, it is—with my grandfather,” Marco said to clarif
y the age and the depth of the relationship to Natalie. “How have you both been?”
“Just fine. My hip is acting up some—but we deal with it, don’t we, sweetheart?” The older man answered.
Mona Lancaster smiled in her husband’s direction. “Yes, we do.” A wistful expression crossed her face as the band broke into the tunes of a waltz. “But I do miss dancing.”
Natalie was conscious of Marco’s attention on the couple. “I’d love to dance with you, Mona—if your husband doesn’t mind?” His words were chivalrous, and Natalie felt a streak of pleasurable surprise at this continued side of Marco that she’d never seen.
“No, sir, I don’t mind. I’ll sit for a spell and keep your young lady company.”
Marco turned to Natalie. “Is that all right?”
She smiled at all three. “Yes, of course.”
George Lancaster held her chair and she sat down. They turned their attention to the dance floor and watched the other two dancing as they spoke of inconsequential things until another man walked up next to them.
“George.”
George Lancaster looked up from his chair and Natalie could see a dark cloud pass over his face. “Kennedy,” he acknowledged the man with a flat voice.
The man called Kennedy looked away from George Lancaster and his eyes fell on hers. “Introduce us, please.”
Natalie felt Mr. Lancaster stiffen beside her. “Natalie, this is Mathew Kennedy—Kennedy—Natalie Lambert. She’s with Marco—so be warned.”
Mathew Kennedy reached for her hand and Natalie had little option but to give it to him. As his palm touched hers, a small shudder of revulsion ran through her that she desperately tried to hide.
“Since when does Donati care about sharing his women?” Natalie knew he asked the question of Mr. Lancaster, but he pulled her from her seat and his eyes stayed on hers as he asked it. A dark spiral of dread landed sharply in her stomach from the strange question. She had no choice but to stand as the power of his arm was unrelenting. “But first I’ll just dance with her.”
He talked about her—but not to her, and nerves rushed up Natalie’s throat and it took everything she had not to physically snatch her hand away from his. As it was, she couldn’t help but giving it a slight tug.