by Amelia Wilde
But now, even as she holds her head up high and tries to keep smiling, the situation is getting to her.
I can’t let her crumble in front of me like this.
I don’t want to let her fall apart while I stand by, doing nothing, acting like this is a purely professional arrangement and nothing else. It’s not, even if I can’t put into words why I ever thought it was a good idea in the first place. For all I know, it could be the worst idea I’ve ever had.
It’s not a thought that propels me toward her, closing the distance between us with two long strides, not a calculated decision. By the time I’m moving, I’m done thinking. I have no other choice but to respond to the urge to protect her, to keep her safe, even if that means taking the edge off the pain she’s feeling right now.
I take her into my arms, pressing her against me, even while I brace for her inevitable rejection. She’s going to push me away. She’s going to leave the room, her eyes cold, her back straight. She’s going to snap at me—how dare you, what are you thinking, this isn’t part of the deal.
I know it, and I don’t care. The instant my arms are around her, warmth cascades through my entire body—a bright, peaceful warmth. I’ve done the right thing.
She doesn’t pull away.
She doesn’t do any of those things I was expecting, even as the first shred of doubt enters my mind. I’m not intending to force myself on her—it’s just that seeing her fight to keep the tears off her cheeks and out of my sight woke something in me that’s never been inspired by another display. Not ever.
Her body melts into the embrace, and Ruby drops her hands away from her face. When she leans into me, her cheek pressed against my shirt, it’s all over. I’m a goner.
Shoulders sagging—whether it’s from relief or sorrow I don’t know—she stops holding back the tears. Ruby cries silently, holding her breath between every sob, and I stand in place, holding her no matter how hard her shoulders shake. I feel like a mountain. I feel like the most powerful man on the face of the planet.
I don’t know how much time goes by, standing like this. I’m submerged in the feeling of her body against mine, her delicate curves wrapped in my arms, the scent of her fruity shampoo. But eventually, Ruby straightens up, takes a deep breath, and flicks the last tears away from the corners of her eyes. Her blue eyes, more vivid against the red in her cheeks, meet mine tentatively.
“Can you—” She clears her throat. “Just excuse me for a minute, would you?”
“Of course.” I give her a smile, and she returns it with a flicker of her own. Then she turns, disappearing back through the second door leading out of the den.
I brush my hands against the front of my shirt where her tears collected, and the sensation of the cloth under my hands—she was that close to me—sends a thrill down my spine. It’s pathetic to think that something so small could affect me in the least, and even though there’s nobody in the room to see I drop my hands. I’m glad that my jacket is back in the car.
Ruby comes in from the opposite door a few minutes later, her cheeks still pink but the blotchy evidence of her sobs mostly erased. “Well,” she says, lifting her hands. “That was embarrassing.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
She bites her lip, then lets out a little laugh. “You probably say that to all of the people you manage auctions for.”
I shrug. “Only the ones who have a difficult time.”
She looks at me, eyes huge and blue and deep. “How many of them do you end up...comforting like that?”
I take a shot. I don’t know what she’s fishing for, or if she’s fishing for anything, but something about the tone in her voice has shifted and a new heat throbs in the air between us. “So far? Just you.”
Ruby nods, stepping farther into the room. “Where did we leave off?”
I can’t take my eyes off her. “I hope…” A sharp desperation wells up in my chest. I’m not ready to leave this topic behind. Not yet. “I hope I didn’t cross a line.”
She takes in a deep breath. “That’s the thing…” Her gaze is back on the dollhouse, but after a few agonizingly long heartbeats she looks back at me. My heart leaps against my ribs. “I should have hated it. I should have hated the way I broke down in front of you—and I do. I still hate that part. But I should have hated the fact that you—you of all people, Levi—were the one to feel…feel sorry for me.” Then her voice drops to a whisper. “I should have hated having your arms around me like that. I’ve been telling myself I hated your touch ever since…” She trails off. Ever since Sunday. Ruby doesn’t have to say it out loud. The moment that she’s referring to, with my hands on her face, tilting those lips up toward mine and never allowing myself to kiss her… “I should have hated it.”
It’s all I can do to draw in a breath, but I do it. I force the air into my lungs and take a step toward her. The scent of her skin swirls in the air. She’s close enough to reach out and touch, but I don’t dare do it. I don’t dare do it…yet.
Instead, I ask the question.
“Did you?”
Ruby looks into my eyes, her lips parted, and everything in my entire body hangs on the next words out of her mouth.
Chapter 17
Ruby
I’m already stripped down to the core in front of Levi, after that outburst. I cried about a dollhouse. I cried about a dollhouse that I can’t fit into my apartment by any stretch of the imagination. I sobbed against the front of his shirt for a long time, and there’s nothing in this room that really means anything to me…until I start to think about it. Standing next to all my father’s things, my mind goes into overdrive thinking of all the reasons they’re important, that they should be treasured, that they should be protected. Once it starts, it’s impossible to stop.
So much for pretending to be a true professional about this. From the moment I woke him up on Sunday morning, I’ve done nothing to convince him that I’m level-headed, that I’m in this for the money, that I can be just as coldly interested in profit as he is.
Is it this room that has the words coming in a rush out of my mouth, spilling out one after the other until I’ve all but admitted that the feeling of his arms around me was the best thing I’ve ever felt? That I didn’t know it until he touched me, but some part of me has always been dying to be held that way? To be held by him? I never knew that a desire could be so specific without ever having met the man in your life, but now it seems like I’ve always been hungry for his touch. For Levi Blake’s touch.
My heart is on fire. It must be burning up inside my chest, making all the rest of my resistance wither to ashes.
Levi’s gray eyes are locked on mine like he’s a drowning man and the only thing that will save him is the gaze that neither of us can break away from. I don’t want to break away from it. I don’t want to take another breath that’s not full of his scent.
“No. I didn’t hate it.” The words are still a whisper, and I have to work to make my voice audible. “I didn’t hate it.”
He’s so close—close enough for me to reach out and brush my fingertips over the fading wetness of my tears on his shirt—and I can’t tell him how much I want him to touch me again. I can’t find the words to say that even though I hate what he’s going to do to this house, I want him closer, I want his lips on mine, I want his body on mine...
But he doesn’t need them.
The moment he hears what I’ve said, he’s moving forward, and I’m swept up in his arms. He’s so strong, so powerful, and it seems to take him no effort at all to lift me, his hands on my ass, my legs wrapping around his waist. It all happens on instinct—the same instinct that makes me throw my arms around his neck and kiss him, kiss the fuck out of him, kiss him so hard and hot that there’s nothing on the face of the earth that can match the inferno raging between us.
He backs me up against one paneled wall, and my shoulder hits a frame, sending it crashing to the ground, the glass shattering. I don’t bother to loo
k down, and Levi doesn’t seem to have heard. His lips against mine are firm, possessive, and god do I want to be his. I can’t help moaning a little into his mouth, opening my lips to give him full access.
I’m soaked.
My pussy throbs against the fabric of my pants, stretched tight over his hips. Why did I wear these? Why did I not wear something that would let him slide his hands up my thighs and push my panties out of the way so he could fuck me right up against this wall? Now that I’m not trying to keep my mind away from him, everything I’ve ever wanted is breaking loose, running rampant in my thoughts. His hands against my ass are holding me without the slightest bit of strain, and when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, just grazing it, I arch my back against the wall
He swings us around then, still kissing me as fiercely as the moment our lips first met, and steers us toward the leather sofa against one wall. Levi kneels, putting me down on the sofa, my legs still spread to accommodate his waist.
Every inch of me aches to be closer, to tear off my clothes and his, and I’m so lost in the wanting of it that it takes me by surprise when he lifts my shirt by the hem and pulls it over my head, whipping it to the floor.
“Not fair,” I gasp, but there’s nothing that feels better in this moment than the air caressing my skin…and then his hands, sliding down over the curve of my waist and then back up to tug at the straps of my bra. “Not fair…”
He laughs, his voice low and thrilling, and reaches for the buttons of his shirt. They’re open in an instant and I finally have my hands where they’ve wanted to be—against his naked skin, trailing down over...
Over the most unbelievable set of abs I’ve ever seen on a man. It’s like dragging my fingertips over a washboard, every ridge defined, and I must look pretty captivated because Levi puts two fingers under my chin and tips my head back so I’m looking into his eyes again. “Do you like what you see?”
“Yes.” Then he’s pressing his thumb against my lip, against my teeth, and I bite down gently. His gray eyes flash.
Another kiss—this one hotter than the last, more consuming, and I can’t help but press myself against him, my nipples hard against the lace of my bra. This morning, I never would have admitted to myself that I was putting on this bra, these panties, because I had to meet Levi after work. He was never supposed to see them.
He wasn’t.
I would keep telling myself that, but his hands are against the fabric of my bra, cupping my breasts, and he’s seeking out my nipples with the pads of his thumbs. I arch back when he makes contact, and another moan escapes from my mouth.
“God, Ruby, I could listen to you do that all day.” He increases the pressure on my nipples and pleasure burns a path right down between my legs.
I’m about to lose control.
Chapter 18
Levi
It’s not enough for me, getting her shirtless on the sofa in what used to be her father’s den. It’s not enough, and it’s verging on being too much. Her skin is so soft under my hands that it’s an effort to take my palms away for long enough to test the firmness of her breasts. And Jesus, they’re perfect.
Her nipples are pebbles beneath the rough lace of her bra, and when I circle them with my thumbs she can’t stop herself from tipping her head back. Ruby’s blonde hair spills down her shoulders, coming loose from whatever clip she was using to hold it behind her head, and the second it’s down I can’t remember what it looked like when it was so tightly bound.
I’d like her to be tightly bound. I’d like to see her with her hands behind her back, her ass in the air, breasts straining toward the fabric of the sofa or bed or floor that she’s kneeling on. I’d like to hear her moan my name, beg me for more, whimper for another orgasm. I’d be all too happy to give it to her.
It’s not the center of my sexual life, dominating women, because most women aren’t arching back on a leather sofa. Most women don’t look at me the way Ruby looks at me, with a combination of strength and vulnerability that’s asking for power to step in, to show her that there’s a space where she doesn’t have to worry. Not about estate sales, not about auctions, not about money. If I were to dominate her, she’d come so hard she wouldn’t remember her name, much less the value of the dollhouse she’s so torn about giving up.
I want more.
I need more.
She does, too.
She opens her eyes, her breath coming fast and hard, and her arms tighten around my neck.
I lean in, making her shiver with another circle around her nipples, this one agonizingly slow, and press my lips to her neck. Then I raise my mouth to her ear.
“Put your hands down by your sides.”
Ruby bites her lip, and the second it takes her to move her arms is such a beautiful hesitation that my cock twitches in my pants. If I weren’t so invested in what I’m doing to her nipples, I’d put my hands on her wrists and guide them down into place.
But she does it, pressing her palms against the leather surface. Her hips strain toward me, though I don’t think she notices it’s happening. She’s held back by her own pants. Those will be next to go.
“Keep them there.”
“Why?” The question is a breathless word, hardly making a dent in the soft silence of the room.
“Because I told you to.” I nip at her earlobe. “Because in this moment, right now, you’re mine, and I gave you an order.”
She sucks in her breath, and goose bumps rise along the back of my shoulders. This is a risk. It’s a huge risk to say this to Ruby right now, but I’m riding the current in the room and this is where it took me. I don’t have any idea what’s going to happen next. She might stand up and slap me across the face, or she might—
Ruby’s head tips back and she sighs, so deep it’s almost a moan. Her hands stay in place against the seat, and I drag my thumbnails across her nipples, the nails catching on the pattern in the lace. Her hips rock forward again. I don’t reach between her legs. I want to, but I wait.
There’s nothing holding her in place, which ratchets up the heat in the room a thousand degrees. There’s nothing holding her in place but her desire to do this, and that’s what opens the door. Images flash into my mind of Ruby, writhing with pleasure, and I know that’s the end point. That’s the only thing I’m striving for in this moment, and maybe every other moment from now on.
I drag my lips down the side of her neck, tracing a path to her bra strap, and then I hook one finger underneath and pull it down to her shoulder. I kiss the space on her skin where it used to be. Then I reach behind her and unhook the back.
Her arms are trembling, but there’s one more step I have to take.
Now I do take her wrists in my hands, raising them gently upward until her hands are back on my shoulders.
Her bra is lightweight. There’s almost nothing to it, and I bring it forward with two fingers until she pulls her arms back, finally free.
Holy fuck, she is exquisite.
I can’t help myself.
We crash into each other and she falls back to the surface of the sofa, her back against the leather, her lips parting to let my tongue explore her mouth. Every time we kiss she gives a little more, lets me possess a little more, and it’s infuriating and intoxicating at the same time. It will take a thousand kisses until she’s mine.
I’m willing to keep going. I’m willing to kiss her that many times, and a thousand more, if that’s what I’m forced to do.
I smile against her mouth, and she pulls back, just an inch, her eyes bright. “What?”
“It’s nothing. You’re fucking perfect.”
“You’re—” She curls forward, her lips pressing into my shoulder. I lift her chin toward me and claim her mouth one more time, swallowing her gasp.
The kiss deepens, turns passionate and fast and hard, and Ruby’s fingernails dig into my shoulders. She’s spreading underneath me, spreading her legs to wrap them around me, and I want so badly to rip her pants off of her com
pletely that I can hardly stop myself.
So I don’t.
I press my lips into her sweet mouth one more time, then push myself off of her, sliding to the floor. Once my knees are firmly against the hardwood I reach for her pants.
Ruby is already sitting up, her hands moving toward my shoulders, and I think she’s bracing to lift herself off the sofa enough for me to get those damn slacks off.
Her hands press against my shoulders, and my fingers are working at the button of her pants, when it happens.
She tenses, her flat stomach pulling away from me an inch.
“Levi...” Her voice is husky, conflicted, tense, like lightning waiting to be released. “Wait.”
Chapter 19
Ruby
Levi’s lips against my shoulder, where my bra strap was, where the strap of my bathing suit sits. Levi’s lips tracing that pale line down to my collarbone. Levi reaching for me, both of us shirtless, both of us skin on skin, grabbing at his shoulders, clawing at him, ready to explode...
“Ruby?”
I jump a foot in the air at the sound of my boss’s voice. Shit. I don’t know what I was working on before she came over here.
I was lost in the memory of him.
I should be thankful for the interruption, because at the ends of these fantasies is nothing but a deep, red-faced shame.
I couldn’t go through with it.
“Helen! Yes.” I clear my throat. What the hell was I working on? Nothing on my computer, because the screen is asleep, and I haven’t been taking any notes, so it must be...
“Are you all right?” Helen is in her sixties, with green eyes that sparkle in the afternoon sunlight coming through the single window in my office. “I seem to have startled you.”