Fifth Avenue Box Set: Take MeAvenge MeScandalize MeExpose Me

by Maisey Yates

  Then he stopped thinking about anything but the exquisite sensation of being inside her as he gasped out his climax, and her own breathing broke on a cry she quickly swallowed. She lowered her head, her hair brushing his chest, as her breathing slowed.

  Before the last wave of pleasure had even subsided, she was rolling off him, adjusting her shorts with trembling fingers, her eyes glittering with defiant triumph.

  “You know where the door is,” she said, and without so much as a backward glance she left him there, sated and naked on the bed, and headed toward the bathroom.

  Alex lay there for a single stunned second before he tossed the condom aside and rolled off the bed in one sinuous movement. He reached for her wrist, her skin smooth and cold under his fingers.

  “Interesting idea, Chelsea, but our evening doesn’t end there.”

  She eyed him with haughty disdain even though he could feel her tremble. “It does for me.”

  Alex smiled and shook his head slowly, his gaze nailed to hers, his fingers still encircling her wrist. “Not even close.”

  “I don’t do pillow talk.”

  He widened his smile, his gaze never leaving hers. “Neither do I.”

  She pulled her wrist away from his grasp. “So we’re done here.”

  He caught her by the shoulder as she tried to turn away, forced her to face him. “No,” he said, “we’re not.”

  * * *

  Chelsea stared at the determination on Alex’s face and felt a thrill of something she couldn’t name. No, she could name it; she just didn’t want to.

  Excitement. Pure, unadulterated, sexual excitement. So he wanted a little control now. And damn it, she wanted to give it to him.

  She’d got what she wanted. She’d had him begging, writhing. And his seeming submission had given her the most mind-blowing orgasm she’d ever had.

  Yet she still wanted more. And so did Alex.

  How frightening was that?

  She lifted her chin, tried to stare him down but he wasn’t even blinking. “You sure you’re up for round two, champ?” she mocked and he gave her a smile that was positively feral.

  “Definitely.”

  Chelsea didn’t answer. Stupid of her to challenge him. Idiotic to feel this thrill, this sudden need, even deeper and fiercer than before.

  “Fine,” she said, feigning a boredom she didn’t remotely feel. She dropped back down onto the bed, and lay there, supine. “Ready?”

  He laughed softly. “You are a piece of work, Chelsea. But you’ve had your turn. Now it’s mine. Get up.”

  She didn’t move, even though she wanted to. Even though everything in her ached to obey him. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “I told you I wasn’t going to play your little games, Alex.”

  “Everything with you is a game. But you want to lie there on the bed and pretend you’re bored? Fine. I can work with that.”

  Damn. She was in big trouble. Chelsea sat up, scooted away from him. “Sorry, but I don’t actually do repeats.”

  Smiling lazily, he reached for her hand, pulled her up to him, and damn it, she went. “This isn’t going to be a repeat.”

  He pulled her to stand next to him, and she trembled as she felt the scorching heat of him. “You get off on this, Alex? This whole controlling thing?”

  “You just did,” he remarked. “But don’t worry, Chelsea, I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. I’m not that kind of man.” He studied her thoughtfully. “But you’re scared—”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Pissed, then. Pissed off that I’m going to make you want to do things you don’t want to do. Aren’t I?”

  “Just try,” she snapped, all bravado. She knew very well he could do exactly that, and the fact that he knew it made it all the more dangerous. More terrifying.

  “Oh, I will.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “You didn’t even want to climax, Chelsea. You practically fought it. What was that about?”

  “I enjoyed myself,” she answered tersely. How had he, in the midst of his own orgasm, seen so much? She’d always hated the vulnerability of letting go that much. She wasn’t a prude; she enjoyed sex. But she ended it quickly. Yet with Alex she hadn’t even had a choice. Her body had simply taken over, in overwhelming response to his.

  “I want you to lose yourself,” Alex told her, his words both threat and promise. “I want you to lose your mind. Anything else is an insult to my manhood.”

  “Oh, please.” She looked away from him, tried to claw back some of her cool composure, haughty disdain. It was nowhere to be found.

  “I like that,” he murmured, his hand on her shoulders now, holding her in place. “I like it when you say please.”

  She turned back to him, her lip curling even as her body thrilled to his touch. “So this is an ego trip?”

  “Is it an ego trip to want you to come? Fine, then yes, it is.”

  “I had my pleasure, Alex. It was watching you beneath me, helpless and begging. Trust me, I’m fine.”

  He gave her a cold smile. “You really like to lay down the gauntlet, don’t you?”

  “Just stating facts.”

  “I can do that, too,” he murmured, and covered her mouth with his own.

  Just a kiss, and yet it was a shock to her system, like diving straight into cold, clear water. Suddenly every sense was alive, electric. She stood still beneath his touch, mind and body reeling under the onslaught of his mouth and tongue.

  And it was a practiced, expert onslaught; the man knew how to kiss. It was only with the very last ounce of her self-control that she kept herself from reaching for him, putting her arms around him and drawing him closer. Everything in her yearned to feel the hard press of his body against every aching point of her own, and yet still she resisted. Out of pride. Out of fear. Out of a desperate need to keep herself from giving—and losing—everything to this man who affected her like no one she’d ever known.

  Alex lifted his mouth from hers and Chelsea almost gasped aloud at the loss. “You want me to work for this, don’t you?”

  Somehow she found a smile. “Would you expect any less?”

  “Never.”

  And work he did. He kissed her again, sliding his tongue along the seam of her lips before plunging inside, making everything in her pulse with that same electric shock of awareness. Intense. Painful. And yet so very alive.

  Still she remained still, her hands clenched at her sides, her mouth barely parted under his. She wasn’t about to make his conquest easy, and she’d never let him know how much she wanted this. Him.

  But of course he knew. She knew he could feel the heat coming off her in waves, the shudder that ripped through her despite her every effort to suppress it. And belatedly she realized the mewling little gasps that broke the stillness in the bedroom were coming from her.

  “You really are resisting this,” he murmured against her mouth as he slid his hand down her body to the juncture of her thighs. “What’s so scary about an orgasm, Chelsea?” he asked, and there was a new, surprising tenderness in his voice that she couldn’t bear. Not giving in, she realized far too belatedly, was more revealing than surrender would have been.

  Why hadn’t she seen that?

  He pressed his hand against her, and she heard the sound she made. Then he took his hand away and touched her chin with his fingers; she opened her eyes. “You want me to stop?”

  She said nothing. She couldn’t admit that she didn’t, and she wasn’t strong enough to say yes.

  He smiled as he stroked her again. “I think that’s a no.” One finger slid beneath her shorts. She gasped aloud. “Is that a yes, Chelsea?”

  And then she broke. “Damn you,” she gasped even as she fought the waves of pleasure that coursed through her, the pressure building.

  “And you said you didn’t do pillow talk.”

  She let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob, because this man amazed and affected her, and he made her body sing.
She steadied herself, her hands on his shoulders as he touched her. “I’m going to make you pay for this—”

  “I look forward to it.”

  He took away his hand and she gasped, every sense in her body screeching to a shocked halt. “Don’t—”

  “Don’t what, Chelsea?”

  She just shook her head. She wouldn’t say it. She wouldn’t.

  But he would.

  “Don’t what, Chelsea?” he asked, his voice soft, his gaze hard and burning. “Don’t stop? Is that what you were about to say? To beg?”

  She leveled him with a look, or tried to. “I never beg.”

  “Maybe not, but your body does. Your body is begging me to touch you. To finish what I started.”

  And she knew he was right. She shifted restlessly, the ache in her pelvis insistent, intense, and still tried to stare him down.

  “I really should take pity on you and end this,” he murmured. “But I’m a hard man, Chelsea. I’m going to make you work for it.”

  She let out a choked laugh. “What do you call this?”

  “Desire isn’t weakness, you know,” he said quietly and she just glared at him. She wouldn’t tell him that for her it was. It always had been. “You want me to be the one to beg?” he asked, a ragged edge now tearing his voice. “You want me to be weak, Chelsea? Fine. I want you. I was inside you moments ago, and I still want you again. And I want you to want me, to admit it not just with your body but your mind. Your mouth. Tell me you want me, Chelsea.”

  And she almost did. She’d never had a man ask that of her, and yet when she opened her mouth nothing came out. Nothing could.

  Alex’s gaze turned to glitter as he kissed her again, hard, demanding, and still she wouldn’t give. He was destroying her, crumbling away years of carefully-constructed defenses, and he didn’t even realize it, didn’t see the rubble around her heart. She’d never let him know.

  His mouth still on hers he propelled her across the room, until her back came up hard against the floor-to-ceiling window.

  Then he sank to his knees in front of her and her fingers clenched in his hair as he pulled down her shorts and put his mouth to her. Her knees buckled. He was on his knees and it should have made her feel strong but instead she felt weaker than ever, overwhelmed with emotion and need as his mouth moved over her and her head came back against the glass as she shut her eyes and finally gave in to it, powerless now to resist the tidal wave of sensation that rose up to flood her, overwhelm her with feeling.

  She was splayed out against the window, all of Manhattan behind her, but it was the man in front of her on his knees that made her feel exposed. Vulnerable. And she had no strength left to fight it.

  With her jaw clenched, her breathing hitched, tears of pure emotion starting in her eyes, she came.

  Her climax rolled over her in an all-encompassing wave, obliterating everything but a pleasure so intense and exquisite it hurt. Her hands clenched harder in his hair and she pulled, wanting him to feel just a tiny bit of what she was feeling. Pleasure. Pain. Too much.

  He stood up, sliding his hands over her body, and while the aftershocks of her orgasm were still frying her brain and making her whole body strain and quiver, he slid those clever hands under her camisole and slipped it over her head, leaving her incredibly, unbearably bare.

  Even through the daze of her desire she saw the smile leave his face, the shock dilate his pupils.

  “Chelsea,” he said, and his voice was hoarse. “What the hell happened to you?”

  Chapter Six

  Alex stared at the long, jagged line of torn flesh on Chelsea’s left breast in shock. She didn’t cower or cover up, just lifted her chin a notch as he was starting to realize was both her default and defense and met his gaze full-on with an unyielding one of her own, even as her breath continued to come out in ragged gasps.

  “I fell out of a tree when I was a kid.”

  “And onto what? A chainsaw?”

  “Fine, it was a car accident. A metal sign came through the wind shield and I was on the receiving end of its edge.” She shrugged, but her eyes flashed fury and her jaw was as hard as granite. And just moments ago she’d been molten under his mouth, sobbing out a climax she’d tried so hard to fight.

  “Had a good look?” she drawled and Alex realized he was still staring at the scar on her left breast. It had long since healed over, but the raised, puckered flesh told of a serious, life-threatening wound.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “You didn’t.” She retrieved her camisole and then slid it back on. “But now that you’ve had what you wanted, you can go.” And without another word, without even looking at him, she stalked to her bathroom. He heard the audible click of the lock turning and he sank onto the edge of the bed, the satin sheets barely rumpled from their time on them, and wondered just what the hell had happened.

  Sex was meant to be simple. That was how he liked it—no emotions engaged, just basic physical pleasure. And Chelsea’s attitude had seemed to mesh with his own in that regard, yet somehow the whole thing had spiraled way out of control and his emotions seethed inside him, a hot tangle he didn’t have the energy or resources to unknot.

  It had started as a game of control, something he thought was merely amusing, and it had turned into something else. Something deep and complex and emotional.

  He didn’t do any of that. Neither, he knew, did Chelsea. So how had they got here? What had happened? And what was he going to do about it?

  He knew Chelsea was expecting him to be gone by the time she came out of the bathroom, and he also knew that would be the easiest option. Get the hell out of there before it became even more complicated.

  He didn’t move.

  He couldn’t leave it like this. He couldn’t leave it at all. No matter what had just happened between them, and hell if he knew what it was, this was still about Treffen.

  About Sarah.

  He couldn’t forget that ever, not even now. Especially not now.

  * * *

  Chelsea waited for nearly an hour before she left the bathroom. She’d showered, washed her hair, brushed her teeth: all useless attempts to get the scent and taste of Alex off her.

  It didn’t matter if her mouth now tasted of mint and her skin smelled of almonds. He was still imprinted on her brain, seared onto her soul. The man had reached her the way no one else ever had, and she couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear how weak and exposed he’d made her feel, how much he’d seen. How much she still wanted him.

  At least she wouldn’t see him again. He must have left by now, and she had absolutely no intention of ever so much as smiling at the man again.

  She knotted her ivory silk robe tight at the waist, pulled her damp hair into a ponytail and drew in a deep, calming breath. Then she opened the door of the bathroom and stopped short when she saw Alex sitting on the edge of the bed. At least he’d put his clothes back on. Yet with his tie left undone and his hair still rumpled, he looked just as appealing as he had when he’d worn nothing but his socks. Chelsea had a mad urge to push him back on the bed and instead of straddling him, curl up next to him. Feel his arms around her, holding her close.

  She pulled the knot of her sash tighter around her waist and fixed him with a narrowed look. “What are you doing here?”

  He smiled faintly, raised his eyebrows. “Did you really think I’d just slink out of here while you were in the shower?”

  “Since I told you to, yes.”

  “Maybe you haven’t realized, but I’m not so good with orders.”

  “I’m not so good with assholes who outstay their welcome,” Chelsea snapped.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Ouch.”

  “I mean it, Alex. We’re done.”

  “You really think we’re done, Chelsea? You think you’ve got me out of your system?” Her mouth dropped open and he smiled. Nothing friendly about this one, just a cold curving of his lips. “That’s what you wanted, r
ight? Take me to bed and throw me out afterward, with you smugly satisfied that another poor bastard did just as he was told. Well, too bad for you, because I’m not that kind of man.”

  She leveled him with a look, or tried to. “So I gather.”

  He rose from the bed and took a step toward her, and then another. He was close enough to touch her but she didn’t move, didn’t flinch. She stood her ground and eyed him evenly, waited for whatever he’d sling at her next.

  “I want to talk about Treffen.”

  “Treffen?” She stared at him in disbelief. “Nice timing.”

  “It works for me.”

  “Fine.” She folded her arms. “What about him?”

  Alex gazed at her for a moment, his expression assessing yet a surprising vulnerability visible in his eyes, quickly hidden. “I want you to take him down on your show.”

  “Take him down?” Chelsea raised her eyebrows. “What do you think I am, a secret agent?”

  “He’s evil, and the world needs to know it.”

  She shook her head, amazed that a man like Alex could use such melodramatic language. “What did he do to you to make you so mad?” A memory suddenly clicked into place. “Wait—didn’t he say something against Diaz News, way back when you started? About how biased you really were?”

  Alex frowned. “That has nothing to do with this.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m serious, Chelsea.”

  “So am I. I won’t be used for your personal vendetta, Alex. Sorry.” She shook her head again. Everything made a sort of horrible sense now. “So that’s why you were waiting for me in your limo. Probably why you took me to bed, too. For some ridiculous plan of revenge.” And stupidly, that hurt.

  “As I recall, you took me to bed.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Don’t you even want to know what he’s done?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “That’s shoddy journalism, Chelsea, and you know it. And you think I’m letting personal feelings get in the way?”

  “What personal feelings do I have about Treffen?” she scoffed and he smiled, his eyes hard.