Secrets Vol 1

by Hamre-Gaines-Landon-LeGendre

  If he'd ignored her lack of attire, eating might have been easier. But his gaze slid from her eyes to her shoulders to her breasts repeatedly. Her stomach tightened, and she couldn't eat a bite.

  Apparently the view whetted his appetite. And while she sipped her wine, he ate and ate. Finally he stopped his fork half-way to his mouth. "Short of returning your clothes, is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

  "You could remove your shirt," she suggested. At least maybe then she wouldn't feel so underdressed.

  Lowering his fork, he grinned. "Ah, perhaps my plan is already working if you're so anxious for me to undress."

  He unknotted his tie and unfastened the buttons of his shirt in a prolonged strip tease. Suddenly her hunger returned, and she placed a forkful of delicious shrimp into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

  "Don't think I'm anxious to see your bare chest, Craig Logan. I merely thought that what's good for the goose is good for the gander."

  Craig grinned nonchalantly. "Uh-huh. Do you feel less vulnerable now?"

  She raised her gaze from her plate and took in the sight of his muscular torso. Like his face and hands, his torso sported a golden tan. Light swirls of hair decorated his chest in a v-shape, spreading from nipple to nipple, then tapering to his flat stomach. Tracey gave

  The proposal 185

  up all pretense at eating.

  Instead she watched him, watched his shoulders flex as he cut his food, watched the muscles ripple, and remembered the feel of him in bed. His body was very different from hers. He'd been right in thinking she liked the cuddling and caressing, she'd thought she might have felt something when he held her, but it disappeared when they'd made love.

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin, then dropped it into his lap. "I thought after we marry you would live with me. Give up your job."

  "But I like it here."

  "Acton Industries is only one part of the empire. You can travel from company to company with me. There's more than enough work forboth of us."

  "Your people would think I earned the position in bed."

  He shot her a devilish grin. "That remains to be seen. Come here." He patted his lap.

  She stood and took a step in his direction, suddenly very aware of her swaying breasts.

  "It's time for dessert. You can remove the rest of your clothes."

  Knowing he'd intended to ask it of her didn't make the doing any easier. "Why?"

  "Because I asked it of you. Need I remind you of your promise or that we are totally alone? No one can enter. The door's locked."

  She placed her hands on her hips. "What makes you think this is going to work?"

  "Have you ever known one of my plans to fail?" A mocking glimmer of satisfaction crossed his arrogant expression.

  "But—"

  "Relax. There's no bed in this room. I'm hardly going to rape you. In fact, we aren't going to make love."

  "We aren't?" Surprise and relief mingled with her confusion, the tension inside her easing a bit.

  "Am I shocking you?" his husky voice rasped.

  She nodded.

  "Good. Then my plan is working. Take those off."

  186 Ivy London

  As she complied, the zipper's noise seemed unusually loud. Her heart thudded in her chest.

  "The panties and hose too."

  She hooked her fingers under the elastic and lowered the panties and hose over her hips. Tracey turned to sit and finish the job but a mischievous smile on his lips told her he wouldn't let her off so easily.

  He pointed to a spot four feet from the table and well within the candlelight's glimmer. "Stand there."

  His crisp order shot a sizzle of electricity through her. No one had ever spoken to her in that demanding tone, expecting complete obedience, and she suddenly wondered what he would do if she changed her mind.

  One look at his face, and she didn't dare ask. He appeared more determined than she could ever recall, and a tiny spurt of fear mixed with a sudden agitation.

  Slowly, she walked to the spot he'd indicated. He moved his chair back from the table slightly to have a better look. When she began to slip the garment past her hips, he helped himself to some coffee.

  "Turn around."

  Her face burned. "Excuse me?"

  "I want to watch your bottom when you bend over."

  "I don't think—"

  "Do it."

  She spun around, almost losing her balance and blinking back a tear. This wasn't her idea of a good time. For one thing, heat flushed over her face, and she thought she'd choke on the embarrassment. As she bent over to roll the hose down her legs, she imagined his stare, and her bottom felt hot.

  "Come here," he repeated his voice soft now and sympathetic. She longed to run across the four feet separating them, fling herself against his chest, so he would stop staring.

  As she neared, his nostrils flared, and beads of perspiration dotted his brow. She saw how her body aroused him, and the heady thought washed away her embarrassment, leaving a feeling of power in its wake. She might be the one standing without clothes, but obvi-

  the Proposal 187

  ously he was the one having difficulty mastering his desire.

  She slipped onto his lap and wound her arms around his neck. His hand reached for a fresh strawberry, dipped it in melted chocolate and a dab of whipped cream before bringing it to her lips.

  She opened her mouth and lapped off the cream, licked at the chocolate, then sank her teeth into the fresh berry. "Delicious."

  "And you don't even have a smidgeon of sexual desire, do you?"

  "No," she told him, ignoring the bevy of butterflies in her stomach. "Why do you think that is?"

  "Perhaps you need an extra stimulus to get you started, to get you thinking in the right direction." He flipped her until she lay belly down across his lap. With the tips of his fingers, he traced light, circling motions across her elevated bottom.

  She twisted back to look at him. "What are you doing?"

  One powerful hand pushed the small of her back until her hands touched the floor. Blood rushed to her head, but suddenly all she could think of was her bottom, high in the air, and she wriggled in an attempt to get free.

  In the struggle, her legs parted, and his hand slipped between her thighs. She gasped as his hand cupped her. Although he'd tried many times, saying he could please her, he'd only touched her there once before, and she'd been so miserable she'd begged him not to.

  "You're dry," he commented as if she could be otherwise. "Haven't I been patient with you?"

  "Yes."

  "And it got us nowhere, don't you agree?"

  "Yes."

  "So now it's time to try something different." His hand slipped from between her legs and made tiny caressing circles with his palm over the crease of her bottom.

  Fright made her voice rise. "What are you going to do?"

  "Smack your bottom. Make the skin hot."

  She squirmed in earnest, her buttocks clenched tight. "No, Craig. I'm not into pain."

  "This won't hurt. Not a lot. Just lots of little slaps to stimulate you."

  188 Ivy Landon

  Her feet kicked, and she tried to twist off his lap. "Don't do this. I won't like it."

  "Do you have any idea how the sight of your pert bottom turned up and struggling is making me feel?"

  She didn't need him to answer. His arousal against her lower belly spoke volumes. "This won't work."

  He smacked her. Her back arched in surprise more than pain. She'd been so sure she could talk him out of it.

  His open hand smacked her in seven or eight lightly stinging blows. He hit her high across the crests, along her hips, down low on the curve of her buttocks.

  She kicked wildly and then realized he'd stopped.

  "Did I hurt you?" he asked. "Your skin is this delicate shade of pink."

  "Of course you hurt me."

  "What about now? Does it still hurt?"

  She shoved on
the floor with her hands, trying to get up, but he held her firm, forcing her to answer his question. She hated to admit it, but, probably because she had so much padding on her bottom, the area no longer stung.

  "I feel hot," she admitted.

  "Where?"

  "Where you hit me," she snapped irritably.

  Despite her efforts to clamp her thighs tight, his hand slipped between them. "And what about where I didn't hit you?"

  Tracey couldn't believe it, couldn't deny the wetness his hand discovered between her legs. "Noooo!" she cried out, unwilling to believe she was so peculiar that pain could produce pleasure.

  "Yes. Stand up," he ordered, giving her an extra smack on the bottom when she didn't scramble up fast enough to suit him. One light whack ignited her oh-so-sensitive nerve endings, sending molten lava coursing through her veins.

  She stood as he'd asked of her, more stunned with her own reaction than by the fact he'd actually spanked her. He remained in his chair and pulled her onto his lap, settling her legs apart and dangling on either side of his hips. "Put your arms around my neck."

  THE PROPOSAL 189

  As soon as she placed her hands, he resettled her so her smarting bottom hung in the air between his spread thighs. Never in her life had she felt so open, vulnerable, hot. A mist of perspiration broke out on her brow. The air conditioner failed to keep up with the heat Craig aroused in her. She had no idea what he intended to do next, and the anticipation made her jumpy.

  "Look at me."

  She forced her gaze up to his face, afraid she might see disgust, but his warm eyes sparkled with amusement. His mouth twitched up at one corner. "Tell me how you feel right now."

  "Ashamed. Embarrassed that you did this to me and are laughing at me."

  "Wrong. First, there is nothing to be ashamed of. Any private behavior that is mutually pleasing by two consenting adults is acceptable behavior in my book. Second, there is nothing odd, peculiar, or strange about you. Pain didn't arouse you."

  "Then what did?"

  "A combination of two things." He reached up with his finger and tapped her head. "Your brain is the most sensitive sexual organ. And you love me."

  He might be trying to make her feel better by explaining her odd reaction away with theories that were mere conjecture, but she knew differently. She'd loved Craig for a long time, and her body had never responded like this. Even now his hands traced tiny circles along the insides of her thighs, and she ached to rub her breasts against his chest. "But—"

  "Heat from my slaps aroused you. The light smacks brought blood rushing to the area. And now that you're so sensitive, one or two whacks will bring the warmth back."

  Craig leaned forward slightly, his arm reaching between her thighs to her exposed bottom. "And I now have your complete attention." He hit each cheek lightly.

  Her lips parted in a gasp. She could think of nothing but what he was doing to her, what he would do next. The sting dissolved into waves of heat carried on a tide of excitement, swelling her breasts.

  190

  Tracey wriggled, attempting to press her nipples against Craig.

  His hands rested lightly on her hips, preventing her from attaining her goal of hugging him. "We aren't finished talking yet."

  Her eyes widened in surprise and alarm. Her nipples tightened into hard, aching little points. "You want to talk?"

  He moved his fingers in ever-smaller circles up the insides of her thighs. "I am merely pleased by your excitement."

  She would have dropped her head but the collar prevented that. Instead, somewhere past the vicinity of his left ear, she picked a spot on the wall to stare at.

  "Don't look away. I want to see your eyes when I put my finger inside you."

  His black stare bored into hers. And she waited for his finger to invade her body. And waited. Tensing. When she felt nothing, she began to drop her gaze to see where he'd put his hands.

  With surprise, she discovered exactly where he'd put one hand. He gave her bottom four short whacks. "Look at me. Don't look away again."

  Her bottom ached, searing hotter than before. And the heat spread, and suddenly she released a flow of wet, slick, heat between her thighs. She recognized the reaction for what it was—desire.

  Arching her back, she thrust her breasts toward his mouth. Her hips gyrated seemingly on their own volition.

  "Don't move. Tell me what you want."

  "Please, Craig. I've never felt like this before. Make love to me before I lose this delicious feeling."

  "You aren't ready."

  Tracey choked back a sob of frustration. Delicious tingling sensations prickled her skin. Craig had kindled a fire in her belly and the sparks blew and caught, firing her imagination at new possibilities. He'd made her feel wanting, yearning, raw need.

  Was there nothing this man couldn't do? A surge of love for him rose up in her throat so she wasn't expecting his tender gaze to turned decisive. The waiting was over. The tip of his finger slipped inside her, and her muscles clenched around him, silently asking for more.

  191 I

  "Kiss me, please," she whispered, knowing if he complied, she could press herself against his chest.

  He didn't insert his fingertip farther, but his thumb parted her folds. "Not until you whimper. And don't think of faking it. I'll know the difference."

  She opened her legs wider in encouragement. Why did he have to take so damn long? When his thumb flicked over her most sensitive spot, she almost leapt off his lap.

  "Be still. Close your eyes now."

  His fingers continued their magic, creating a hollowness inside her. She discovered the sensations seemed more intense without visual distractions. Without conscious thought, her hips gyrated in an attempt to take his finger deeper inside her.

  Whack! Smack! She received two hard slaps on her bottom for her futile effort to hurry him. Either this time he'd hit her harder than previously, or her already stinging skin was becoming more sensitive.

  She expected him to continue the fiery caresses between her legs but he didn't. With her eyes closed, she tensed, waiting to see what he would do. Longing to open them, she didn't dare, wanting to avoid any more spankings. Her bottom already felt hot enough to set her panties on fire—that is if Craig ever let her wear panties again. After the way she reacted to him, she wouldn't be surprised if he wanted ready access to her bottom at all times. One thing about Craig, when he found a method that worked, he—

  "Oh my, God!" she gasped when his mouth found her breast.

  "It's much too late for prayers." He chuckled, his breath teasing her erect nipple. His tongue circled her other breast, shooting quivers of liquid heat to her loins. "Do you like this?"

  "Yes. No. I don't know."

  He leaned back then, and pushed her thighs wider apart. "Would you care to explain your last three sentences." The amusement in his voice had ceased to make her blush. Her reactions had gone far beyond blushing, far beyond embarrassment, to discover a sweet, aching fire that needed to be doused.

  "Every time you touch me, I want more. But no matter what you

  192 Ivy London

  do, it isn't enough."

  "Good."

  Startled by the concept that he thought her frustration was good, her eyelids flew open. When she spied his cocked brow, she remembered she'd just forgotten the spanks she would pay for not following his orders.

  "Remember I owe you several pats on your bottom. I'll claim them at my leisure." And he always collected on debts. Clearly Craig didn't intend to discipline her now. He preferred to keep her guessing, off balance, aching for him to touch her.

  "Please, stand up."

  Her legs shook underneath her, but she did what he asked. When he stood and took her hand, leading her across the room, she breathed a sigh of relief. With the door locked, they could make love on the plush leather couch. She was positive it wasn't the first time the cozy room had been used for such purposes, although she doubted anyone else scented the room w
ith fresh cut flowers and flooded it with candlelight.

  Her heart skipped three beats when he led her to one end of the couch. Several boxes stood stacked by one side, and she turned to look up athim with some confusion. Didn't he know that right now she wanted him, not presents? Didn't he know she was doing everything in her power not tackle him onto that couch and tear off his clothes?

  "I'd like you to put on everything you find in those boxes while I'm gone."

  "You're leaving me!"

  "I'm glad you'll miss me, but I'll only leave you for a few minutes. The last packages didn't arrive but a messenger promised to deliver them to the front desk." Craig scooped up her shoes and clothes. "You won't be needing these."

  She sprinted across the room to him in a panic. "Wait! You can't leave me here without any clothes."

  "Are you going back on your promise?" he asked softly, his eyes focused on her heaving breasts. "I'll lock you in. No one else has a key."

  "But suppose there's a fire?" she wailed, unable to keep her un-happiness from her voice at the sudden turn of events. She'd ex-

  THE PROPOSAL 193

  pected to be on that couch with her legs wrapped around him, feelings sensations she'd never experienced. Instead he intended to lock her in the private dining room without a stitch to wear.

  Craig shrugged into his shirt and fastened the buttons, then slung his jacket over his shoulder, refusing to even leave her that. "There's only going to be one fire. The one building inside you. While I'm gone, I'll expect certain things. One. Don't think of relieving your sexual frustration by your own hand. Two, I expect you to be wearing every item in those boxes, and Tracey—"

  She swallowed hard. "Yes?"

  He grinned, and his gaze boldly raked over her still-hard nipples. "When the lock clicks and the door opens, I expect you to be posing seductively."

  "But aren't we going to make love?"

  "I already told you, we wouldn't. Not here. Not now. Remember, when this door opens, you'd better—"

  "I know, be posing seductively," she replied petulantly.

  His hand smacked her bottom lightly. "Don't disappoint me."