Claim

by Sierra Cartwright

  “It’s hard to be a genius when you’re pissed off,” he agreed.

  He put down his glass on the tile floor then plucked hers from her hand and put it down, too.

  With his foot, he turned on the hot water again.

  “Such talent,” she said with exaggerated approval.

  “Impressed?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. Totally.”

  While the tub warmed again, he grabbed an unopened bar of soap that she’d probably had on the side of the tub for display purposes. “Lilac?”

  She laughed. “You tell me.”

  There was some sort of flowery-looking picture on package. Truth was, he didn’t know the difference between a shrub, a bush, or a plain old flower. They all looked the same to him.

  He peeled off the thin cardboard and lathered the bar.

  “Well?”

  “Lilacs,” he pronounced, after inhaling. He was proud of himself. Definitely the same type of smell as earlier.

  “It’s lavender.”

  “Lavender?”

  “Lavender.”

  “That’s a flower, right?”

  “More or less.”

  He sighed. “It will still smell great on you.” He used his thighs to inch her forward.

  She turned off the faucet while he spilled water over her shoulders then washed her back.

  As he massaged her tight muscles, her head fell forward. Damp tendrils of her hair curled against her neck.

  “You might have been right,” she admitted.

  “About?”

  “How much I needed this.”

  He worked around to her front and washed her ribs, her breasts.

  She hissed in a breath.

  “Sensitive?”

  “You could say that.”

  “We should keep you that way.” He jostled her around, a bit onto his lap so he could wash her pussy and her upper legs.

  “Do all your subs get this kind of treatment?”

  “I line up one a night. You’re the fortunate one for Friday night.”

  “And you invited me for tomorrow night,” she reminded him.

  “Damn. There you are. Caught me. You’re the one and only, Zee.” Against her ear, he added, “When you have the best, why would you settle for anything else?”

  He put the soap in its holder and rinsed her off.

  “I’ll need a shower in the morning, Sir,” she said.

  “I’ll make sure of it.”

  He felt the ripple that danced through her.

  With a sigh, she pushed away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “We’re not done?” She turned her head to look at him.

  “Not close. Get back here.” He reached for her glass and gave it to her while she settled back into place. It felt so good to have her there, so right.

  After picking up his glass and taking a drink, he mentioned, “I saw your yellow legal pad downstairs.”

  “Which one? I probably have five or more.”

  “More,” he agreed. “The one with my name on it.”

  She froze. “Wait.” This time she did pull away, sloshing her wine, turning to face him on her knees. “You can’t think…”

  “What?”

  “I would never try to get close to you for my own purposes.”

  “Look,” he said. “It’s never been difficult for me to figure out if someone is using me.” Chantelle included. For a while, he’d enjoyed her company, her energy, her lack of neediness. When he’d realized she’d wanted much more, the drama had started. That, he had little tolerance for. “My name was crossed through.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Working with Aldrich Enterprises, even one of its smaller companies, would be a big boon to RightNow. But honestly, we’re doing fine. We don’t have to have it. But since it’s my company, I’m the person who naturally leads business development.”

  “That’s not always so natural,” he observed. “That’s a visionary gift.”

  “I certainly don’t see it that way.”

  “Keep talking,” he invited.

  “This is an odd conversation to be having in the bathtub.”

  “On the contrary, it’s the perfect place. You can’t run.”

  “You often discuss business naked?” She scowled.

  He kept his face carefully schooled. If she’d realized how much her reaction had revealed, she’d likely vanish and never see him again. “No, Zee. You’re my first.”

  Her scowl deepened.

  “Promise. And you’re going to be the first to pitch an idea to me while I’m drinking a decent wine in her bathtub and looking at her tits. Though, I have to admit I’m man enough to be distracted by said tits, enough that I’ll agree to anything as long as I get a taste of them.”

  “Pervert,” she said again. “I was right. You’re a definite pervert.”

  “Yeah. I am where you’re concerned.” He closed his hand around the globe of her glass. “I’ll hold that while you get your behind back where it’s supposed to be. And I’ll give you five minutes to talk. Consider yourself lucky, most people get sixty seconds for their elevator pitch.”

  “I…”

  “Four minutes, fifty seconds.”

  Her eyes went wide. For a moment, so did her mouth, until she snapped it closed. “Are you serious?”

  “I want to fuck you, Zee. So, yeah, I’m serious. I’d rather have you under me and my cock in you than talk business. You’ve got four minutes, thirty seconds left. Make them count.”

  Chapter Seven

  Mackenzie had practiced.

  At her Thursday morning small business owners’ meetings, they took turns doing presentations. Other CEOs offered critiques with the idea being that, if you were in an elevator with someone, and you had only a few seconds to talk about your business, what would you say? She could sum up her business in thirty seconds, one minute, or do an all-out presentation for a specific client.

  He moved her into position, and it was easier with her back to him. Easier, but not easy. She’d rehearsed her pitch in the shower, while she was dressing, on the rarely used treadmill. But she’d never rambled it off while one of the most powerful men in Boston, if not the Western hemisphere, was behind her, his cock stiffening.

  Even though he’d lathered the lavender soap, the powerful essential oils in it were no match for his masculine scent, that of sex and power.

  That she had a glass of wine in her hand, that he’d used his expensive leather belt on her butt and thighs, then had a finger in her ass, others in her pussy as he’d clamped and masturbated her, didn’t help either.

  And worse, he’d given her a glimpse of the person he was beneath the public façade. That he’d never said anything bad about Chantelle still stumped her. His relationship with his parents and the ways he’d managed to cope with the expectations and burdens at a young age fascinated her.

  In the last week, Mackenzie had learned more about him—who he really was—than she’d gleaned from a hundred online articles.

  Still, she knew this was the opportunity of a lifetime. Last weekend, when she’d read that article in the architectural magazine, she’d seen possibilities that benefitted them both. It had seemed natural to want to talk to him about it.

  But she’d let her fears and inhibitions rule her. She’d been busy keeping men at bay for so long that she’d allowed the fact that they’d scened together to get in the way of trying to contact him. She’d simply crossed it through because she hadn’t wanted to approach him.

  Coward, she chided herself.

  “We provide businesses with skilled employees for either short-term or long-term positions, at all skill levels. We’re available for fundraising, event management, call centers, marketing campaigns, accounting, holiday retail assistance, and even tax help. No job is too small.” She took a rehearsed breath. “And we provide the first ten man hours at no charge to potential new clients.”

  Thirty seconds. Flat.

  “It’s risk
y, the ten hours.”

  “I’ve been screwed,” she admitted. “But it’s rare. We vet companies before approaching them.”

  “How is this different than any other temporary help firm?”

  These were the questions she always hoped to get. “We also do long-term placements. We’re a hybrid, all the best things about a recruiter—”

  “Headhunter,” he cut in.

  “A bit of an archaic term,” she said easily, refusing to get riled up. “And we can get you staff for special events like grand openings. We coach our employees ahead of time about your company, educate them as to your expectations, train them to answer questions, essentially they’re your ambassador, without you having to do any work.”

  “We have HR teams.”

  “I expected that. We work with them, as well. Of course, you’re always welcome to do your own training, but sometimes time doesn’t permit. It’s just an option. We can also staff your concierge-type services such as massage therapists, personal trainers. I know you may want to contract that out and—”

  “You can do that, too.”

  She laughed. “And save you money while we do it.”

  He trailed his fingers up the front of her thigh as she spoke. It was soothing, rather than annoying. She’d had no idea being with a man could be this easy and relaxed. She’d certainly never experienced it, never known anyone who had.

  Now she was at the two minute mark. “Risk free. Personal guarantee. Who wouldn’t try it? And this is where I go into the list of people we’ve taken care of.”

  “So if Aldrich Enterprises is on that list…”

  “And that’s why I didn’t ask you. You might have thought I was trying to manipulate you.”

  “Is it?”

  “Of course.” Mostly.

  “Or is it because you were afraid I’d ask for something in return? A little quid pro quo?”

  “Business is business,” she said.

  “Tell me the truth, Zee. Were you worried about me? Or yourself? That you might have to be vulnerable? That I might insist on dating you?”

  Behind her, she felt his body stiffen. “That sounds absurd.”

  “I’m afraid that’s the way you think.”

  “Look, Kennedy…” This time she did squirm away and scoot to the far side of the tub. She needed to look at him. “Obviously it was a bad idea.”

  “Which part? Not asking me, or going through your elevator speech?”

  A moment ago, she’d been concerned that she’d let fear stand in the way of a solid business proposition. Now she realized her self-preservation instinct had been working exactly as it should have been. “Could we forget we had this conversation?” How had things managed to spiral like this…from shared intimacy, emotional as well as physical, to standing with her toes curled around a precipice?

  Then she knew. Kennedy. He was a hundred times more dangerous to her than any other man had been, because of the dominance, because of the sex, because he wanted her stripped bare, demanded honesty all the way to her soul.

  “We can move on,” he said. “But neither of us are going to forget it.”

  “Probably true.”

  “Should I go?”

  “Look…” Because she didn’t know what to say, how to save the evening that had gotten so far away from what she’d been expecting, she stalled by putting the glass on the floor.

  Kennedy turned the knob that would drain the water then put his glass on the far side of the tub. “Wait,” he told her.

  He stepped from the tub onto a mat, then he grabbed a towel and held it out for her. He wrapped it around her shoulders. She held onto it, grateful for the metaphorical barrier between them.

  He dried himself with a guest towel then pulled on his trousers. “You still have my phone number?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m still planning to take you to dinner tomorrow night. Unless you call to tell me you’ve changed your mind, I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  As always, he was putting her in an untenable situation. Either way, she had to get past this upset and deal with him. He wouldn’t let her vanish.

  “For what it’s worth, Zee?” He took hold of her chin and tipped it back.

  His eyes were a darker shade than she’d ever remembered, laced with frustration.

  “I had a wonderful evening. I like fucking you. I like how smart you are, and I sure as hell like the times you let go of your preconceived notions about what this is, what it could be, and let your submissive impulse tangle with my dominant nature. I’m not mad. I’m not angry. And I will look at any information RightNow sends over. I’m leaving because you need me to, not because I want to.”

  She could still stop him, she knew. All she had to do was ask.

  “One final thing.”

  With him, there likely always would be.

  “After dinner, we’re going back to my house. I do have toys. And I want to use them. Pack an overnight bag. You won’t need panties.” He released her and picked up their glasses before going into her bedroom.

  The confrontation left her breathing raggedly, and she recognized she had caused the upset between them. That hadn’t been her intention when they’d started talking about her business, but her determination to keep him—and all men—at a distance had pissed him off. Why would it? Any man should be grateful for what she offered. Sex with no expectations, no need for candlelight and romance.

  She gathered her composure while she dried off enough to slip into a full-length robe.

  When she returned to the bedroom, he had finished dressing. He’d even buttoned the cuffs on his shirt and fastened the belt around his waist.

  The outrageous shoes he usually wore puzzled her. They seemed out of character for the rest of his restrained personality.

  He gave her a glance as he picked up the wineglasses, remaining silent.

  “I’m sorry,” Mackenzie said. She didn’t know what else to add. There was no way to undo the past ten minutes.

  After giving her a curt nod, he left the room.

  She heard him moving around downstairs, then the front door opened, quickly followed by the sound of it slamming closed. Moments later, the noise from his car’s engine filled the night before slowly receding.

  Mackenzie put her shoulders against the wall and let it support her. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

  * * * *

  By the next morning, Mackenzie was no closer to an answer.

  She’d spent a restless night, tossing and turning.

  The bed made her think of Kennedy. Each time she moved, she was reminded of him. Her body was still a little tender—her breasts, her pussy, her ass, even her thighs and buttocks where his belt had bitten the skin.

  It had been a relief when the clock had reached six and she’d tossed back the covers.

  Groggy from dreams and restlessness, she wrapped her robe tight against the cool autumn morning and went downstairs.

  Even her home no longer seemed like sanctuary.

  Everywhere she looked, her place showed his impact.

  Her shoes were missing from the entryway, and her undergarments were in a neat pile.

  In the kitchen, she discovered he’d put away the wine. Not only that, but he’d washed their glasses and left them on the counter.

  Smarting, she went to brew coffee. Then she noticed a yellow legal pad next to the machine. He’d flipped to a blank page and left her a message—

  Think of me.

  As if she could do anything else.

  She shoved the pad away and made the coffee.

  Without much luck, she tried to focus on other things. She went for a long walk, stopping at a bakery for a chocolate croissant and a cappuccino before going to pick up a few groceries.

  By the time she returned, snow was spitting from the sky, and her fingers were cold. She dug into her pockets to keep warm, only to find Kennedy’s business card there. He made it difficult to escape him.

  Mr. Greene was
taking a walk with Mrs. Hoosier. When the dog saw her, she gave an excited bark.

  “It’s me,” she called out so as not to startle Mr. Greene. “Mackenzie.”

  The pair stopped and waited for her, Mrs. Hoosier’s tail thumping the cold sidewalk.

  “Mrs. Hoosier told me you had company last night,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  “She kept going to the living room window that overlooks your house. Then I heard a car leave around ten. Does he like dogs?”

  For a blind neighbor, he certainly knew what was happening. “How do you know it was a he?”

  He chuckled. “Because you didn’t correct me. Lucky guess.”

  “Tricky, Mr. Greene,” she acknowledged.

  Mrs. Hoosier nosed at her bag.

  “Been to the grocer’s?” he asked.

  “Are you sure you’re blind?”

  “I might be. But I’m not stupid,” he said. “It’s Saturday morning. Your routines are boring and predictable. You’re a young woman. You should live more. Get out there. Even Mrs. Hoosier is onto you. She knows you have a box of treats for her in that bag of yours.”

  “How…?”

  “It’s Saturday,” he said, as if that explained everything, which it probably did.

  “Well,” she admitted, “Mrs. Hoosier is right. I can give it to her now, or she can come over later.”

  “I’ll send her over later. I’m having company for lunch.”

  “Ah.” She grinned.

  “You know, young lady, you should stop being so boring.”

  “Boring?”

  “It’s good that you’ve been getting out a bit. It was nice of your gentleman friend to drop you off, but he didn’t stay very late last night.”

  She was going to protest that she didn’t have a gentleman friend. But she supposed she did.

  “Live a little,” he told her. “Shame if I’m the only one having a good time.”

  “More information than I need, Mr. Greene.”

  “Mrs. Braselton certainly makes my heart monitor race.”

  Mrs. Hoosier growled and brought her ears forward.

  “You’d better send her over,” Mackenzie said. “By the way, the scarf is nice.”