Ropes of Lies

by Kathy Noumi

  I inhaled, cool air filling my lungs, then let it all out. A snide chuckle tumbled out along with my breath. Had I dodged a bullet with her or . . .

  A soft purr hit the still room, “Jameson…”

  Eden.

  Her voice: unmistakable.

  Chapter Four

  Eden

  “Jameson . . .” I whispered.

  A rustling sound came from the corner. I couldn’t help but shift in my heels, balling my hands into fists at my side. I would need the strength of Hercules not to strangle Jameson.

  His deep voice reverberated off the walls, unyielding. “Miss Black.”

  After the slight clicking of shoes, his lean silhouette appeared. He stopped only a foot or two from where I stood, his eyes fixating on my mouth again. I had a moment of déjà vu. My anger sizzled, my blood burning in my veins. This man made me lose my mind. I hated him, and yet every time we were alone there was this energy between us. I wanted to strangle him, slap him, and kiss him all at the same time, a response only he could provoke in me.

  “What do you want?” he asked coldly.

  “To knock some sense into you,” I bit out. “What the hell was that out there?”

  The corners of his mouth turned up in a cocky smile. “Don’t worry, princess. They’ll all think it’s just a little sibling rivalry.”

  He was such a maddening beast. He was exasperating, and one look could ignite a rage I didn’t know existed. If only he wasn’t so damn breathtaking. I mean, really, who looks that good?

  He stepped closer. With Jameson now practically on top of me, I had to coach every inch of my body into staying still. I felt like a teenager frazzled by a first crush, my limbs pulsating to the beat of an imaginary techno song.

  He shifted, moving his arms, and placing his hands in his pockets. Being in a room alone with him twice in one night was outlandish. I hadn’t seen the man in exactly four hundred and twenty-three days, and now this.

  I had to get as far away from him as possible. Why did I think I should come yell at him, again?

  “We should—”

  “Do you remember what you asked me the first time we were in San Diego together?”

  Those words sucked the air from body, leaving me breathless. All I could manage was, “No.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire!

  Another stride closer.

  “You wanted me to show you something,” he said.

  I nodded, internally noting the symptoms of close proximity to him. My mouth—dry. The air—thick. My pulse—liquid magma. Knees—weaker than a toothpick holding up a piano.

  Jameson started circling me, his breath caressing the back of my neck. “I still have the sapphire rope in my—”

  I put my fingers across his mouth, “You can burn it for all I care.”

  Jameson seized my wrist. We stood there for an eternity, until he leaned into me and whispered, “You’re such a little tease,” he paused, steadying himself, his face an inch from mine. “Isn’t that right?”

  I jerked my hand out of his clutch. The silence thickened, and I guessed he didn’t dare open his mouth. I turned to leave but he clung to my waist, and the sensation of his hands made me shudder. What was he doing? He’d insulted me, for Christ’s sake. But I couldn’t pull myself away, and some sick part of me craved his touch. The levelheaded version of myself was gone.

  “Turn around,” he ordered in the commanding tone I recalled so vividly. “Look. At. Me.”

  My brain churned a million miles per second. It begged, pleaded, and shouted for me to go, flee, run in the other direction, anything—but somehow, I couldn’t. And my body betrayed me. Slowly, I rotated, facing him. The look in his eyes was pure undiluted need.

  His hands traveled up my body, fingertips skimming my arms, caressing my shoulders, teasing my collarbone. I bit my bottom lip to muffle my gasp as he moved his thumb across my mouth. I licked after it, tasting the salty flavor. His touch was a drug. One hit and I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t function, plunged into an endless abyss of wanting.

  Oh god. Oh god. Oh god! What is happening?

  Jameson eased his palms on either side of my neck, stroking languidly. He thumbed my cheeks. His chest rose and fell, slightly quicker with each beat.

  In a quiet, authoritative whisper, he said, “Don’t move.”

  He lowered his head slightly, capturing my bottom lip between his teeth. I groaned when he tugged at it hard. His mouth covered mine. His kiss was brutal, but the teasing . . . worse. Jameson dipped his tongue in, circling in a slow, provocative torment. He devoured me, lick by lick, and I let go.

  Whatever battle I’d been fighting disappeared in his kiss. The taste of scotch burned my tongue, but I didn’t care. His lips were exactly how I remembered them, firm and soft, sweet and spicy, an obsession that I’d never get over.

  Then suddenly, quicker than a fire in dry heat, he wasn’t just kissing me anymore. He sucked, licked, and bit my neck, jaw, and lips without restraint. His hands and mouth issued the orders while I freely surrendered. When Jameson brushed his mouth against the skin right behind my ear, it detonated a shockwave through me.

  “You haven’t changed. Same sweet taste,” he whispered.

  Reaching up, I clawed at his thick, slicked-back locks, digging my nails into his scalp. He growled, picking me up and pinning me to the closest wall. He traced my collarbone with kisses before dipping down to the top of my breasts. Jameson used his tongue, licking up over their swell and between my cleavage. While his lips were occupied, he allowed his hands to roam farther south. He ran them over the back of my thighs, squeezing my ass.

  God! That feels incredible. Why was I avoiding sex again?

  “Jameson,” a voice came from the hall. “If you’re back here with some random woman, give me the signal.”

  “Fuck, it’s Charles,” he groaned into my ear.

  I immediately pushed him off me, sliding down the wall until my feet hit the floor. I straightened my dress and adjusted my hair while Jameson stood motionless.

  He stared at me. “You don’t seem flustered in the slightest.”

  “What?”

  “How often do you get caught in this position?” he said sharply.

  “You son of a—” My fidgety palm finally found its target, swishing through the air and cracking across his cheek on impact.

  Jameson didn’t move a muscle. He looked at me with fire in his eyes, like he wanted to punish me or scold me, but couldn’t. His chest heaved, reminding me of a bull preparing to charge.

  Mr. Davenport’s voice came from the hall again. “Jameson! Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Each word boomed closer than the last.

  Without a word, Jameson adjusted his tie, ran a hand through his mussed hair, and smoothed out the fabric of his tux. Keeping his eyes on the door, he leaned toward me. “You’ve been aching to slap me all evening. Do you feel better?”

  I glared at him. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  He licked my earlobe lazily. “I think you remember my rules, Miss Black, and slapping me is not allowed,” he whispered in a breathy groan.

  Before I dared blink, his body heat vanished. Opening my eyes, I caught a glimpse of his broad shoulders before he disappeared into the hall. The tight knot in my gut at the loss of his touch pulled at my insides.

  The air around me buzzed. Had I really slapped him? The only physical evidence of my boldness lingered on my prickly palm. We’d had one of the most intense kisses I’d ever had in my entire life. Holy shit! My heart pounded harder. I did just slap him.

  God, it felt good.

  Chapter Five

  Jameson

  Charles was waiting for me right outside the double doors. Bastard knew me a little too well.

  “Did my father send you to find me?”

  Chuck cocked his scarred brow. To this day he refused to tell me how he got it. “Who else would?”

  “And how the hell did you track me down exact
ly?”

  He winked. “Cute girl at the reception desk.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, let’s get back. It’s a bit early in the evening to lose you in a coat closet with the front-desk girl.”

  While we walked in the direction of the ballroom, Chuck yammered on about some client he was trying to close, but his words quickly transformed into a dull hum. My mind was elsewhere. How could I have let myself lose control with Eden? Damn her! She was a shameless, hotheaded tease, whether she meant to be or not.

  When I’d seen her earlier in the ballroom, standing there alone in her lacy black and gold gown with those big blue eyes twinkling under the lights, I nearly lost it. Her eyes . . . Christ. A deep sapphire that faded to ice towards their center, they nearly had me on my knees. I could swim in those irises if she’d let me.

  Eden had been an enigma since the moment we’d first met six years ago at the Fontainebleau in Miami. She existed in a class all her own. Her porcelain skin, long, wavy, raven-black hair, and full, pouty lips were no match for her sharp sass.

  Chuck waved his hand in my face. “Jameson? What’s with you tonight?”

  “Nothing.” I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry as a desert. “You were saying?”

  “You, my friend, need another drink,” he said in his usual half-joking way.

  I peeked back down the hall, spotting Eden emerging from the conference room at the end. She walked toward us, the fabric of her dress swaying around her hips in a deliciously tantalizing motion. She had managed to reapply lipstick and once again looked every bit the sophisticated executive despite the fact I had just pressed her up against the wall at a charity event. I was seriously fucking losing it.

  What is wrong with you?

  Why the hell was she so good at this? I’d spent my fair share of nights with women—simple, easy, straightforward women who were nothing like Eden. With her, I never knew what I was up against. One minute she was a ball of fury, and the next she was craving me with the deepest ferocity I’d ever known.

  I recalled the night we snuck off to Toronto. Eden was there on a work trip, and I flew in on the pretense of meeting a potential buyer for our Ganzavort property.

  It had been two weeks since I’d last seen her, and I sat on the plane fidgeting like a school boy about to do the deed for the first time. I gripped the velvet jewelry box the entire flight.

  Upon arrival, I took in the hotel’s sleek, urban appearance. The Sky International Hotel & Tower was a spectacle with its polished, well-designed architecture. I made my way to the front desk, squeezing the box in my pocket. Wanting Eden all to myself for however long she’d allow it, I’d booked the Sky’s penthouse suite on an impulse.

  A chirp came from my breast pocket and I pulled out my cell. Eden. Her message stated she’d see me in my room after her meeting at seven.

  One more tortuous hour. Damn her.

  I paced back and forth, scowling at my watch. It was a quarter past and still no sign of her. Almost an hour later, I heard the familiar key card slide into the door. Eden waltzed into the suite—self-assured, no hesitations or second thoughts—and waved her key card like a white flag. “I’m here.”

  Her cobalt dress hugged her curves, her hair fell in inky black waves past her shoulders, and her heels highlighted her toned legs. The sight of her spiked my pulse, and my cock twitched.

  “You’ve kept me waiting.”

  “Oops.” She bit the tip of her finger suggestively. “There goes rule number eleven.”

  I was settled on the bed, my back against the tufted headboard. Seductive and sweet, she was also a teasing brat, but I loved it. “Number eleven, huh?”

  She dropped her purse on the floor near the door of the bedroom and slipped off her pumps.

  “And you wore that to your meeting,” I said, pointing at her dress. “I’m skeptical your client was able to focus on anything at dinner.”

  She shot me a suggestive glance, batting her lashes. “I wore it for you.”

  I placed both palms behind my head and let my eyes roam over Eden’s body. “Come here.”

  Without skipping a beat, she pranced over, waves of eagerness rolling off of her like shore breaks in a storm. She craved this—possibly more than I did.

  Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. “Would you like me to remove my dress?” She dropped one strap in that teasing little way I loved.

  “No. Take off only your panties.”

  Eden slid them down her thighs, past her knees. Bunching them in her hand, she smirked, then threw them at me. “And now?”

  I caught them, lifting them to eye level. “Now, princess, you will go downstairs to the restaurant and order us dinner.”

  She pursed her lips. “But—”

  “But nothing. You were late. So instead of spanking your fine ass, which is more pleasure than punishment for you, I’ve put my creativity to good use. I came up with a few new ideas to reprimand you.”

  She pouted. “This isn’t hot.”

  “When you get into the elevator, the cool air will brush your bare ass beneath that dress. While you walk your lips will rub as you take each stride. At the bar when you sit to order, all you’ll be able to focus on is how the cold leather feels on your naked skin, and you’ll wish I were there to lick your already wet pussy.”

  I waited for her to say something more, but she merely gaped at me, wide-eyed. “So,” I added, “is that hot enough for you?”

  Eden moaned. Her cheeks flushed. “Yes,” she replied in a hoarse voice.

  “Make it quick.”

  She turned, put her heels back on, and leaped straight for the door. “What do I get if I make it back up here without getting wet?”

  I chuckled. “Too bad you’re already soaked,” I called after her.

  She didn’t deny it, and her lip biting was obvious proof she was enjoying our game more than she’d ever admit. Before she left the suite, she yelled from the seating area, “Why can’t we just order room service again . . . sir?”

  The subtle way she enunciated “sir” was no doubt on purpose. I sucked in a breath, reminding myself the few extra minutes were worth the wait. “Because this is far more fun, and I want you ready for me. Now go.”

  “Chicken then?”

  “Your choice.”

  When the door shut, I called the restaurant. Frank, the man who answered the phone, remembered me from earlier. I told him Eden was headed down and to give her the package I left. He quickly reassured me not to worry. Then I walked into the designated living room area and started a fire.

  Twenty minutes later, I heard the key card before the handle turned. Eden gripped the package firmly between her hands as she walked in. Her eyes bored into me like I was the last Godiva truffle on earth.

  After placing the box on the coffee table, she scanned my face for approval. “I wasn’t sure if it was safe to open it down there, so I didn’t.”

  “Open it now.” I sat, forearms on my thighs, my heart thudding so hard I thought I’d swallow it.

  Eden grabbed a pillow off the couch, threw it on the ground near the table, and knelt. Peeling back the paper deliberately, she inhaled sharply. She lifted open the box top and her eyes lit up. “When did you . . .?”

  “Do you like it?”

  Her head bobbed. “It’s the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever—but how did you find time?”

  “I have ways.”

  “This is too much.”

  I reached for her hands. “I found it for you. I didn’t want just any old piece of jewelry. This is us. And when you wear it I want you to remember I’m always thinking of you.”

  “Jameson . . .”

  I took the three entwined platinum bands from the box, ran my thumb over the raised ropes, and placed it over her wrist. “Just say thank you and stop asking questions.”

  She touched the diamond x’s across the top. I could see the gears rotating in her mind, thinking about what it meant. She locked eyes with me. “I don’t know how or why, but thank yo
u.”

  “It’s ropes. You’re tied to me, Eden, and I’m not letting go.”

  “We still can’t tell anyone. If even a single person finds out . . .” She shook her head, not saying anything else for a few moments. Then finally she peered up at me.

  “No one is going to find out, Eden. What we do is our business.”

  She smiled, fingering the bracelet. “Who are you? And where have they taken Jameson?”

  I smirked back at her. “That guy, well they locked him up. I’m his replacement . . . just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.”

  “You’re a dork,” she giggled. “I love it. Thank you.”

  I licked my lips. “Now, princess. Take everything off except the bracelet.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, running a finger over her mouth.

  We stayed locked in the suite for two whole days. Wrapped up in each other, not ready to leave the bubble. Our getaway to Toronto was a month before our New York conference trip, when we’d nearly been caught by her boss. Eden had worked herself into a full-on panic and said she could never have a future with a man like me, not to mention that her company would assume she’d been spying for WSquared.

  It still amazed me how a single moment could change everything.

  Snapping back from my daydream, I saw Eden out of the corner of my eye, headed down the hall toward the ballroom. Charles stopped me when we approached the doors and mouthed, “Was she in the conference room with you?”

  I gave him a tight-lipped glare. “No. She was not in there with me, Chuck.”

  He snorted, opening the door. “I hope you know what’s at stake here. Don’t fuck up. You ready for this auction or what?”

  I bit out a quick “Yes.”

  We were a few feet away from the table when he halted. “I want you to be sure. I know crossing your father isn’t something you take lightly.”

  I squeezed his shoulder. “I have to do this. I’m sure. It’s me or him, and I won’t let him take me or this company down. Once it’s done he can rot for all I care. Nothing will change my mind.”