Seduced

by Susan Arden

  SEDUCED

  (PLAYING THE EDGE 2)

  Susan Arden

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Copyright © 2014 by Susan Arden

  SEDUCED by Susan Arden

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Swoon Romance. Swoon Romance and its related logo are registered trademarks of Georgia McBride Media Group, LLC.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Published by Swoon Romance

  Cover designed by Tom Barnes

  To the fandom who connected with me this year. This one is for you all.

  DST. Pretty awesome—as usual. Another great team effort. Muse of my muse.

  You are the yang to my yin.

  Swoon Romance ~Thank you.

  SEDUCED

  (PLAYING THE EDGE 2)

  Susan Arden

  “The next time you try to seduce anyone, don't do it with talk, with words.

  Women know more about words than men ever will. And they know how little they can ever possibly mean.” ― William Faulkner

  CHAPTER ONE

  Graham had my back against the railing that overlooked the pier. He towered above me as my heart tripped and streaks of heat radiated low in my belly. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t touch me. Didn’t have to. He arched a brow and handed me his business card with his personal cell number. In the lamppost light, his dark eyes consumed me, and his tousled hair appeared blue-black with just the right amount of disarray to look as if he’d tumbled out of bed. Which he had. With me. Tall, dark, built, and he carried himself with the elegant arrogance that came with extreme wealth. Just seconds ago, he’d had his hand down my panties, his fingers thrusting into me to prove a point—two actually—that he’d get me to come, and that I’d come back to him.

  “Well, all-righty then,” I said, a tight smile on my face, but inside I was flayed open…torn.

  “Let’s get you back home,” he replied as we walked back from the marina to the front of his building. Up ahead the sleek car he’d ordered idled by the curb. He turned to me and growled, “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  I glanced up at him, and fought saying something incredibly stupid as I searched his gorgeous face, longing to touch the rough stubble on his jaw. With a palpable force, he stared down at my mouth, making me conscious that my lips were kiss-swollen from him biting them, and that today was officially the first time I’d given head.

  Abruptly his gaze locked with mine, filling me with an awareness that burned, if not branded my body. The type of sizzle he delivered sunk deep inside my bones.

  There were people on the sidewalk, scads of valets hustling around us, a honking horn…yet everything faded. Graham didn’t do a thing except gaze down at me with a stare that blazed a circuit through my body, so hot I wanted to peel off my clothing as I’d done upstairs in his penthouse and resume the mind-blowing sex he’d introduced me to and what we’d explored for hours.

  “You’re staring,” I laughed the words, trying to play off our parting as if I’d rolled in the hay with hotshots like him before, and our rough tumble was no big deal. Well the last part was one huge-ass lie! So big, both he and I had to reel in what we were doing in case the paparazzi were around. I hungered to kiss his suckable lips goodbye. But crap, kissing was a no-go out on the street, and him looking like he was going to climb back between my legs and face fuck me wasn’t helping. I reminded him, “According to your rules, no touching. I’m imagining the slide of my tongue over yours right…now.”

  “Deeper,” he growled in the sexiest masculine voice known to humankind. A combination Brit and New Englander accent that set off pulsations in my ‘P-spot.’ I felt my cheeks blush, and he took our game a step further as he canted closer and whispered, “Make your tongue go deeper into my mouth. I’m biting your lip, sucking the softness into my mouth. You taste so damn good, Eliza.”

  “As do you,” I choked out, needing another man-candy fix. I couldn’t help myself. In a no guts, no glory moment, I had to cop one last feel, and curled my fingers part way around his thick, tanned bicep as we approached the driver’s side of the car and he opened the door.

  Leaning closer, close enough to rub his arm against the curve of my breast, he smiled, shaking his head, and gave me a wicked eye roll. “You’re testing boundaries.”

  The touch of his arm was electric. Serious voltage exchange, and I ended up sporting nipples in a tight-n-pointy state, and this was it. Adios. If I had any game in me, I needed it stat! Be cool, Hillwood! Lowering down onto the seat, I heaved my messenger bag over to the passenger’s side.

  I sucked in my craving, wet my lips, and winked. “Guess you’re right. I do need a firm hand to guide me.”

  “I’ll see you soon.” He hesitated and held off shutting the door, biting his full lip as he lowered his gaze down my body, all the way down my legs. When his eyes rebounded to mine, I felt a jolt along my skin that made my hands tremble on the steering wheel. Was he thinking what I was thinking? My legs thrown over his broad shoulders and him thrusting hard into me, so deep we both shouted.

  His glinting eyes darkened when he reached out and twirled a few strands of my hair around his finger and pulled. “Be good,” he directed. Not suggested. No, Graham only dealt in direct commands.

  I gasped. That wasn’t the rule. In public there was no touching, and we both managed to break it. The man had a knack for making the act of rule breaking so tempting, and I couldn’t resist having the last word. “When you say it like that, you damn well know I want to be so, so bad,” I flung back.

  He laughed and shut the door. Well this was goodbye. Whether it was for good and he’d have a driver come pick up his car or simply a hiatus for two days until I left with him for New York…the ball was squarely in my court. He’d offered me the world on a silver-dripping-with-sex platter. Along with money and the glitterati lifestyle that came with a private jet, private cars, and the private sliver of a world where I’d live with him.

  Alone inside the car I’d borrowed from Graham, the Porsche turned into a mobile torture chamber. I squirmed as if jabbed by a red-hot poker, grappling against my desire to stop and exit the car the closer I came to the guard tower. For God’s sake, it’s not forever. I’d see him again or had I forgotten in the last five seconds that he wanted me with him, even talked about going to Hong Kong together?

  It wasn’t easy when I’d left him standing on the sidewalk with unfinished business between us—a hell of a lot more questions than answers. Literally and figuratively, I was in the driver’s seat…yeah, accompanied by a million butterflies swarming in my stomach. I pressed my knees together, struggling to find a sane cell in my body that wasn’t screaming like a banshee to turn the car around as I glanced in the rearview mirror at the man who promised me six months of off the charts sex.

  The kind of sex that left marks.

  The kind of sex I’d never known before today and had me willing to break rules, lie to my family, and leave this city.

  The kind of sex that required a contract.

  All for a man who didn’t play by anyone’s rules but his own.

  Before today, Segall Technology was a brand name I didn’t associate with handcuffs, floggers, and dildos. As CEO, Graham also existed in another world and held
the door open to me, inviting me in as some sort of VIP. If I wanted to call a spade a spade, I would be his contracted concubine. Yesterday, the idea would have been laughably ludicrous—only now I squirmed, toying with the idea of disappearing into his privileged, elite, and yes, secretive world.

  Aside from the mountainous details, if I just considered him minus all the frosting, he was merely a man. Some guy who’d dropped into a yoga class I taught. What a whopper! Graham was no ordinary man! According to the forms he’d signed from my sister Laura’s yoga studio, Graham Gordon was my newest private client. More private than any on record in the history of yoga students. “Client?” I whispered the word, shaking my head. The term was so not appropriate where he was concerned, and the idea of calmly discussing Graham with Laura unleashed a scalding blush over my skin.

  I was neck deep in trouble I didn’t want out of. Oh, no. This type of trouble took the rugged shape of a six-foot-plus body complete with an off-the-chart level of testosterone and power fucking ability. I was talking savage…skin slapping like an animal. And that was part of the ginormous problem. I craved a hell of a lot more trouble since it came equipped with a blazing, glaring, hand-ready-to-slap-my-ass capital “T.”

  Glancing up at the rearview mirror, I noticed Graham still stood outside on the sidewalk and seemed to be staring at the car as I drove away. Was he wondering if he’d see his automobile again, or did his solemn expression have something to do with me?

  This had to be my delusional attempt at dealing with separation shit. No way was he confused. The man was the poster child for control—of himself and others. My brows drew together, and I glanced back in the mirror. He didn’t turn away and walk back to the building’s entrance as I sped forward, past the guard tower, and headed toward the bridge spanning the black bay water. His image shrunk. Tiny, then tinier, and then I couldn’t make him out in the mirror where he remained affixed to the same point where we’d parted.

  My heart raced, hammering so hard it felt ready to burst from my body. Inside the dark compartment of the car, the glowing dashboard lit up in electric blue, the odometer needle spiked, and muted jazz played on the Bose stereo as I tore across the exclusive roadway connecting his world and mine.

  Driving back home, I was torn by having left Graham in a state of exasperation after arguing about vehicular safety—his words—but, really, it was his desire to exercise an all-encompassing control over me that provoked my temper to flare. He was a master in debate, among other heat-inducing things. Obviously, he’d won that match, and I drove off in one of his cars having no idea how I’d explain the Porsche to Laura when I arrived home. I lived with her and Luke, her husband, so no way could I hide this beast. She asked that I bring back three forms signed by Graham Gordon for the private yoga session, not a sixty thousand dollar automobile.

  The light turned red at the entrance to Coral Isle, and I slowed, observing the floodlights directed at the lush, tropical landscaping flanking the stone wall and the ornate copper artwork of the twin gates. Truly, I was leaving a wholly unique world. Arriving earlier, a little after two in the afternoon, I’d been someone else in the bright sunshine. I could never go back to being that person after what I’d experienced with him. It was only right that I leave under the cover of night for what we’d done in his bedroom and all over his apartment. Now, I needed to decide whether to return and take him up on his off-the-erotic-wall proposal. He wanted me as his on-call submissive, with all the paraphernalia to boot.

  Blindfolds, rope, riding crops…I’d seen several colorful versions of the bondage and discipline he intended to assert with me as his live-in, paid employee for a period of six months. No less. No more. It was all very tidy, structured, and defined on paper.

  Graham ensured I wouldn’t return to his world clueless, and he’d arranged a private ‘yoga’ session that had little to do with a mat. In various positions, he’d repeatedly fucked me to prove how compatible we were. He fed and educated me in between. A crash course in submission in what he described as his private lifestyle. He referred to it as “edge play,” but I thought of the things he craved more as playing the edge—pushing, if not shoving, the boundaries in bed. Regardless of whether I accepted his offer or not, Graham wasn’t the type of man a woman forgot. Ever.

  I banged my head against the neck rest and closed my eyes. His scent lingered in my hair and on my skin. Equally real was the impression of his long fingers plunging inside me, his experienced mouth sucking my skin, and his gravelly voice forcing me to the edge. In one afternoon, his dominating nature shredded the veils I’d erected to keep apart from others—mostly men—leaving me vulnerable and so not in a place I enjoyed visiting. The car behind me honked and had me shifting gears on several levels.

  I had approximately thirty-six hours to decide if I’d accept his offer. During the short trip home, I did as Graham had asked and seriously contemplated the idea of living with him. The chance to escape my comatose life tempted me to accept and sign the contract he’d promised would be prepared by Sunday.

  In one afternoon, he’d commanded me—commanded my body—obliterating worry, doubt, and loads of useless thoughts by being the decision maker in bed. But in freeing me, he opened my eyes to the fact that I enjoyed the consuming sensation he promised and delivered. Over and over. From the whispered caress of his fingers to him slamming his hips between my thighs, plunging into me so deep and taking us both over the brink; I’d never done or felt anything that cataclysmic before.

  “Graham,” I whispered his name in a voice that sounded more like a plea. Away from him, he still had the power to elicit moans from me. Together in bed, we fit perfectly, and the world made sense for a while.

  Now, caught in the evening traffic on Main Street, I tapped my fingers to the music from Graham’s iPod. We’d met in my class days ago, and already he surrounded me in his desire to commandeer my life. What would happen in a week or a month? Could I allow him to take over and erase who I was without argument?

  Graham had me take this car when he extracted my promise to go straight home and check in. Well, I was following the first part of his explicit instruction.

  Crap. It hit me. Tonight might be one of two days remaining before I split for half a year. Away from my family and friends. I had to connect with Carmen, but I couldn’t just come right out and spill. I needed some girl time and drinks. One last night of freedom. Oh hell yeah! I smirked and decided a wild time was more than warranted. It’d be therapeutic to add an addendum to my promise to Graham. What he didn’t know couldn’t possibly hurt him. At present, he didn’t own me. I chuckled at the thought of Graham’s expression if he ever found out his controlled little world wasn’t as structured as he believed.

  I picked up my cell, pressing autodial for Carmen, my oldest and best friend. In two rings, she picked up.

  “What’s shaking?” Carmen asked. “Did you have any gorgeous yoga students come to class?”

  For a second, I choked then remembered that I’d told her about Graham before I even knew his name. I recovered and steadied my voice. “Not enough to circumvent our plans for tonight. You up for a wild time?” I chuckled to cover the nervous tickle in my throat. “I think it might be my last for a while.”

  “Shit hit the fan? I pity you living with your overprotective sister.”

  “No. It’s not Laura.” My insides twisted as I tried to think what to say. “I was offered a job that involves traveling. Short-term. Six months. I’ll be leaving Miami.”

  “Fucking no way. Are you for real?” she screamed.

  I scrunched down on the leather seat under the weight of the truth. Graham and I never discussed what I’d…we’d tell people. He’d have to say something to explain my sudden appearance in his life since I wasn’t going to be held captive in a dungeon. On-call yoga teacher? He expected me to abandon my life at the snap of his fingers. Exit Miami and enter a world I knew nothing about except that it contained him and mind-bending sex. He promised a ton of disc
ipline if I stepped out of line, but the way he made discipline sound was an erotic invitation that beguiled my imagination. Crud, Graham was dangerous. So cool he might scorch cold, imparting the worst type of burn.

  Holding my phone to my cheek, I inhaled. This was my practice session. A dress rehearsal of what I’d tell my sister besides the truth. From July to January, I’d be sequestered, or tethered on a very short leash, by a very rich and powerful man who expected my total and unrestrained compliance. Graham basically owned a slice of the world and everyone in it. At least, that was his perspective. And now, he wanted to own me entirely, albeit only temporarily.

  Here goes nothing.

  “I was offered a private yoga trainer spot. Corporate stuff. Nothing to get excited about. But the pay is incredible, and I’d be able to go to New York and do some serious training. I think this could be a good way to see if yoga is what I want to do. Besides, there are a couple of studios with open training sessions. With my experience at my sister’s studio and her reference, I could easily get in.”

  “Are you insane? Of course this is exciting. New York. As in Manhattan?”

  “That’s the place,” I said, trying to sound bored, as if I got offers like this every day of the week.

  “Carajo! I’d book passage on that freight. Wish I were a yoga diva. Yeah, this definitely calls for a throw-down celebration. Shall I round up the troops?”

  “So you don’t think it sounds…crazy?”

  “Holy smokes, no! It sounds like a total dream come the fuck true.”

  I really laughed this time and relaxed, exhaling easier. “Then please!”

  “We’re going to tear up South Beach tonight.”

  Talking with Carmen always gave me the ability to see things from a lighthearted point of view. Being cool and modern, she didn’t take crap from anyone. She managed to hold down a career of owning and running a popular clothing boutique, had scads of lovers willing, if not wanting, to be exclusive, and lived life to the fullest, traveling in a wide circle of friends and her Cuban family. Sometimes it astonished me that she kept up with our friendship. Other than because we’d known each other since we were both five, what was the draw? “I’m on my way home. Pick you up in an hour.”