by Desiree Holt
Dedication
To Nicki and Claire, for all the opportunities you’ve given me.
Also, to two Beccas—one for all your support in the past, and one for picking up on my silly mistakes in the present. Thank you!
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Mini: Authi
Jeep: Chrysler Group LLC
Chapter One
Nina was seething. More than seething. She was stressed, tense and so restless she could hardly drive her little red Mini through the rush-hour traffic without bashing the heel of her hand down on the horn.
“For fuck’s sake!” she muttered as a Jeep careered into the spot just ahead of her, forcing her to slam her foot down on the brake. After the day I’ve had, it should be illegal to piss me off.
As yet another light turned red just as she reached it, her cell phone rang. She snatched it up off the passenger seat, knowing she shouldn’t answer but not really caring. “What?” she snapped, not having bothered to check the caller ID.
“Is this a bad time?”
Nina felt her shoulders relax slightly at the sound of Jon’s voice. He was one of the calmest people she knew—it was impossible to make him lose his cool, no matter how fraught she got. “To be trying to get onto the freeway? Yeah.”
He laughed softly, the masculine sound sending a shiver down her spine despite her irritation with the world. “Yeah, I heard it’s jammed today. Bad luck.”
“What, did you call to gloat at my misfortune?” she asked, annoyed at herself for wanting what she could never have. Jon was a friend. Just a friend. Nothing more. And that was the way it worked—right?
“Actually, I called to ask if you were doing anything tonight, besides pacing around your house and sticking pins in voodoo dolls.”
The lights changed and Nina drove on, hoping no law enforcement equipment or personnel would catch her on her phone while she was behind the wheel of a moving vehicle. “I don’t own voodoo dolls. Yet. What did you have in mind?”
“I’m in the opposite direction of the rush-hour traffic if you want to come over. I have a pasta bake in the oven I don’t mind sharing…”
Nina’s mouth watered but, as another asshole tried to cut her off, she swallowed a string of expletives with an effort. “I’d love to, but I’m really not fit for polite company tonight.”
“I can handle you,” Jon said, and his casual confidence made her want him to do just that—or else let her handle him. “The offer’s there, if you want it.”
Staring at the long line of cars ahead of her, then glancing over to the practically clear lane heading in the opposite direction, Nina felt her determination to get home crumble. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
She hung up, tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat and reversed a fraction, flipping the bird to the guy behind her as he leaned on his horn. Peeling away from the line of lemmings heading for the freeway, she accelerated with the first genuine smile she’d been able to muster all day.
* * * *
Jon lived alone and, as she pulled up outside his house, Nina was glad. She was rarely in the mood to make small talk with people she barely knew—she did enough of that at work—and, if she was honest, she liked to command Jon’s full attention.
That wasn’t something she was proud of, though. She’d been in enough friendships ruined by lust to know she didn’t want to spoil what she and Jon had. During the last ten years, she’d had no fewer than three male friends confess their undying love for her, which had made her both confused and uncomfortable, since up until that point she’d been enjoying her friendship with each of them.
Nina didn’t want to be the one to turn her easy relationship with Jon into an awkward disaster.
He met her at the front door, dressed in black jeans just tight enough to count and a fitted maroon shirt that flattered his toned figure. “You made it. And there’s no blood on your front bumper—I’m amazed by your self-control.”
Nina scowled at him and he stepped back with a grin, letting her into the house. “Come on in. You can bitch at me while I dish out the food.”
“You know me so well,” she admitted with a sigh. “I don’t even know where to start.”
While Jon busied himself grabbing plates and cutlery, Nina accessed her work email account on her phone. Instantly, the small modicum of calm she’d managed to regain evaporated. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”
Jon glanced over. “Bad news?”
“One of my people is going on a month-long holiday to the Bahamas, and he went over my head to clear it with the big boss, because they’re friends and he knew I’d say no to that much time off at once. I have no one to delegate all his work to while he’s away, which means I’ll have to do it. I might as well just get a sleeping bag and set it up in my cubicle, and I still won’t get it all done on top of my usual workload.”
Turning from him, she began to pace up and down the kitchen, thinking out loud as she fought her rising panic. The heels of her boots clacked against the floor tiles in an angry, staccato rhythm. “I have no staff anymore! Melinda’s on maternity leave, Bill buggered off to join the competition and took a quarter of our clients with him, Helen is lazier than a geriatric house cat, Deborah works hard but is on the verge of a nervous breakdown—”
Jon caught her arm, stilling her in mid step, then steadied her as she almost overbalanced. “What about your nervous breakdown? Hmm?”
“I’m fine,” Nina insisted.
His hands were warm on her shoulders, his body heat seeping through the thin material of her blouse. How did he manage to be so damn comforting when she was so stressed?
“I’m not fine,” she amended reluctantly, avoiding his gaze and shrugging him off to hug herself around the middle. “But I’m just going to have to deal with it.”
She sensed him trying to catch her eye, but refused to look at him. If she saw concern or pity in his face, she was going to cry.
Jon stepped back, giving up. “The first thing you’re going to deal with is this pasta. Here.”
Nina took the plate he offered, her belly rumbling at the sight of the browned, crispy cheese on top of the food. “Thanks.”
Instead of heading for the dining table, Jon motioned her into the living room, where two glasses of white wine already sat on the coffee table. “You don’t mind eating on the couch, do you?”
“Not at all.” Nina sat down with a sigh and took off her boots, then curled her legs under her as she sank back into the cushions. “God, I haven’t even asked how you are. Are things okay?”
They chatted as they ate, and Nina felt herself unwinding just a little. Her phone lay ominously next to her wine glass, however, and, as she ferried the last piece of pasta from her plate to her mouth, the tone that signified she had a new email split the comfortable atmosphere.
Oh, great—what now? Let me guess, Brian’s decided to extend his trip from a month to two months, and while he’s gone Lynn wants me to ‘downsize’ the whole department.
Setting aside her empty plate, she automatically reached for her phone.
“Don’t you dare.”
Something in Jon’s voice made her stop and sit back, and she stared at him, confused by her instinct to obey him. “What?”
He returned her gaze steadily, and she hoped her involuntary shiver wasn’t pronounced enough for him to notice it. “I invited you here so you could relax after a crappy day. If you keep checking your email you’ll just get more and more stressed.”
Nina bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I’m bad company, and I’ll leave if you want. I just need to—”
“No.”
As she reached for the phone again, he grabbed it from the table. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand, and she jerked back at the unexpected contact, as if she’d been stung. Covering her flustered demeanour with anger, she dema
nded, “I’m sorry, what? You get to control me, now?”
“Yup.” Jon took a few seconds to work out how to turn off her phone, then stood up to place it on the mantelpiece, way out of her reach.
Nina rose too, her attraction fading beneath her disbelief that he had the nerve to tell her what she couldn’t do with her own property. She squared up to him, calling up her best I’m the Boss and You’re Toast expression, usually reserved for employees who stepped out of line. She was only middle management, but she could be scarier than the men several pay grades above her when she put her mind to it. And, right now, she was really putting her mind to it.
“You think that, just because I’m in your house, you get to tell me what to do? I don’t buy that bullshit, and you are going to give me my phone back right now.”
Instead of backing off he stepped even closer, and she caught her breath at the intensity in his expression. This was the nearest she’d ever seen him to losing his temper.
“Listen up, Nina. You’re overworked and you’re stressed, and they can deal with you not checking your email until you get to the office on Monday morning. You need to switch off, get your head out of your inbox for a couple of days, and you are going to listen to me. Now sit…down.”
She gazed up at him, wishing she was still wearing her four-inch heels so she didn’t feel so damn tiny and fragile opposite his six feet of lean, toned muscle. As it was, she felt like a leaf in an autumn breeze—fluttery and about to fall.
His cologne was faint, but its heady scent made her dizzy with longing. She was sure he must be able to sense her arousal, hear her heartbeat, feel the surge of blood to her suddenly hypersensitive cunt.
She swallowed hard and gathered her resolve. Where was her tough-gal persona now? If she backed down, he’d know he was getting to her.
“No, you listen. I’m not a child, I don’t work for you and I’m not your damn plaything. If my work ethic offends you, give me my phone and I’ll get the hell out of your way.”
She tried to step around him, but he moved with her, effectively intercepting her. Her skin tingling with rage—and unwanted lust that made her even angrier—she glowered up into his face again.
And forgot to breathe at the predatory heat in his expression.
Well, that’s new, her brain supplied helpfully.
Chapter Two
Nina ordered herself to step back, to break his gaze, to get out of there before he got the wrong idea—or the right one—and their friendship was irreparably damaged.
Instead, her traitorous body swayed towards Jon, and—oh, God—he was slipping his hand to the back of her neck in a possessive gesture that both terrified and elated her.
“Plaything? Did I give you the impression I was toying with you?”
Nina opened her mouth and closed it again, her usual eloquence fleeing under his hazel-eyed stare.
Jon gave the nape of her neck a light squeeze that made her head spin, then abruptly released her. “You have two choices. Either get your phone and leave, and we’ll pretend this never happened…or follow my instructions and let me help you switch off.”
Why was she letting him talk to her this way? Her inner feminist should have been screaming and clawing at the inside of her skull, but his calm, measured tone held no smug sense of male superiority. Instead, it called to a part of her she’d buried deep inside, bricked up behind walls of assertiveness and initiative.
She wanted to obey him. Wanted to see what came next, to follow him into a world where he controlled her actions, at least for a little while.
That scared the hell out of her but, as she stared up into the hungry, dominant expression of a man she would trust with her life, the fear seemed to fade. Where logic should have prevailed, she was now ruled by the thudding of her pulse between her thighs, the electric tingles where her hardened nipples rubbed against her bra.
Jon paused for a second longer, then gave a slow smile. “Sit down.”
Nina hesitated a moment, unwilling to step away from him when he was so close, almost within kissing distance… Don’t make this weirder than it is, a small voice at the back of her mind bitched, and she stepped back instantly.
“Fine,” she muttered, aware that she sounded like a petulant little girl, but needing this small rebellion.
Jon waited until her butt hit the couch cushion to speak. “Good girl.”
Now she had distance from him again, she felt more in control of herself. “Don’t patronise me.”
He looked as though he was biting back laughter for a second, but composed himself quickly, sitting down in the armchair opposite her rather than joining her on the couch.
“There are things you don’t know about me, Nina.”
She nodded slowly. She’d always thought there was a part of himself he held back, though for what reason she hadn’t been able to fathom. Now, though, she was beginning to get the idea.
“I have certain interests I haven’t told you about. Not that I haven’t wanted to…”
Hope stirred within her. Was he about to share something personal with her—so personal that he kept it from everyone? What did that mean for them?
“I’ve wanted to take you in hand for a long time, Nina.”
Oh, God, that voice… It was as if her usual stressed, frantic self receded at his words, replaced by a simpler version of herself—a self that merely wanted to bow her head and let him instruct her. Where had this instinct come from? And why didn’t it worry her?
“What do you want from me, Jon?” She forced herself to meet his eyes, then wished she hadn’t as her pussy responded with a surge of heat that made her swallow a gasp. He seemed to be assessing every part of her, so intimately she could almost feel his gaze travelling over her skin.
“Have you ever tried BDSM before?”
She took a breath in, then let it out, slowly. Putting a label on it made it more real, and more sexual. Was he actually offering something that would end in sex? “No.”
He nodded. “I didn’t think so, but I wanted to be sure.” Leaning forward, he rested an elbow on his knee, his chin in his hand. “It can be done platonically…” Her disappointment must have flickered across her face, because he trailed off with a laugh. “But that’s not what I want with you. Not if you’re game for more.”
Nina frowned across at him, gathering the scattered fragments of her usual personality. “What if I don’t want to submit to you? I like being in control of my life.” Okay, so that was a little white lie, when it came to this situation. She really did want him to take control, but she was too stubborn to let him go unchallenged. If he wanted her, he could damn well win her, not just expect her to kneel at his feet.
“I know you do. But this isn’t life. This is something different. I know you can feel that.”
She stood up, just to be contrary, and laughed at his frown. “You’re not in control of my arms and legs, Jon. I want to stand up, so I’m standing.”
He got to his feet as well, and walked into her personal space again. Her submissive side—newly discovered and eager to please him—swooned, but Nina held firm, her body tense to suppress the instinctive urge to tremble.
“And we’re not in play yet, so that’s fine.” He reached over and cupped her jaw in his hand, with a tenderness that made her catch her breath. “But disobey me once you’re wearing my collar, and there will be consequences you won’t like.”
She swallowed hard, torn between asking about the collar and protesting at his threat. Lost for words, and not quite comfortable with it.
Jon seemed to sense her unease as he stroked his thumb across her cheekbone, affection in his eyes. “I’m the same guy you’ve always known, Nina. I can just see how much you need to let go of everything for a while. If you don’t want to do this, it’s fine. And if you do, I’ll go as slow as you need. Your choice.”
Nina closed her eyes, nuzzling her cheek against his palm. His intensity intoxicated her, and her usual stress-filled, whirling thoughts
seemed to subside whenever he got this close. What harm could it do?
“Yes.”
Even with her eyes closed, she could sense him relaxing. He took a deep breath. Then, his voice rougher than usual, he murmured, “Open your eyes.”
With an effort, she did, and looked up into his face. He seemed to be examining each of her features anew, from her forehead to her chin, but lingering on her lips. His were so close, she couldn’t help but tilt her head further up, bringing her face closer to his. Daring him to take the next step.
Meeting her defiant gaze with a slight smile, he slipped his hand to the back of her neck again and squeezed gently. Her knees went weak and, as her eyelids fluttered shut again, he pressed his warm lips to hers.
Oh…fuck…
She swayed forward, her breasts grazing his chest as he wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her in close. His kiss was confident, dominant, almost controlling, and as she tried to push her tongue into his mouth he forced it back with his, taking full possession of her. And still he gripped the back of her neck with a solid, unrelenting pressure, making doubly sure she understood who was in charge.
The subtle presence of her lace and cotton thong had gone unnoticed for hours, but now Jon was all but fucking her mouth with his tongue she felt every minute sensation against her sensitive cunt. She shifted in his arms, moving closer, and felt the beginnings of his hard-on press against her lower belly. Moaning into his mouth, she stood on tiptoe to press the hardening ridge in his jeans against her clit, slipping her hands into his back pockets and drawing him even nearer.
Jon broke the kiss with a growled curse, moving his hand up into her hair and tugging her head back by a fistful of her blonde curls. “Oh, you want me to fuck you now?”
Nina began to nod, then winced as the movement made her scalp twinge. “I’ve wanted you to fuck me for years. Are you up to the challenge?”