"Then let's not. Let's put that on the back burner for the time being and learn to be us first."
Elle looked up at him with not a little suspicion in her gaze. "You'd be willing to do that?"
"I would. I can't promise I'll be able to reel all of it in –" He contracted his arms around her gently. "I tend to be a bit protective, and you inspire that in me particularly, and God knows I adore spanking your beautiful bottom, but if that's what it takes, I'll tamp down that side of me as much as I can until you're surer of us."
Elle turned within the cradle of his body so that she was lying up against his side, putting her head on his chest. "How is it that you're so sure of us, Alton?"
He sighed, rubbing his hand over her hip beneath the shirt that was draped over it. "I don't know that I could put it into words, but I know it as surely as I know my own name. You are mine, and I am yours."
His kiss was excruciatingly tender and soft, but she could feel him holding himself back, could feel the latent strength and power in his body, could feel the depth of his desire for her.
"Do you…love me?" she asked softly, terrified of the answer and refusing to look up at him.
But he didn't give her a choice. When their eyes met, she could see the answer clearly, as he showed his true feelings for her – the depth and breadth of them – for the first time on his face. He looked down at her as if she was the only thing in his world that meant anything to him.
"God, yes," he confessed with a reverence that made her toes curl. "I haven't told you because I don't want to make you even more wary of me than you already are, but yes, I am very much in love with you, and I'm hoping you'll come to feel the same way about me, eventually."
She almost laughed, but not humorously – at herself. "Yet again, I don't know what to say or do with you, and I'm not going to insult you by lying and just saying it back to you, either.
"Alt, I –" She did feel something for him – more than pure lust – but she wasn't at all sure she could trust her feelings anymore. So she just looked at him and said exactly what she was thinking. "I want time to think about all of this – about everything you've said and how you feel and how I feel. And I'll completely understand if you don't want to waste your time waiting for me to come round, if I ever do, and I'm not promising anything."
He'd gone stiff beneath her, and he didn't look happy, but she didn't feel afraid. "If that's what it takes. How much time?"
"I don't know – I can't quantify it at the moment." She sat up, and he let her, which she was surprised – and glad, but also a little sad – about, then scrambled off him to head to the bedroom, horribly aware of just how naked she'd been – in so many ways – with him.
"We're still going to date while you figure things out."
It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and her look, when she'd dressed – using her coat again to cover the popped buttons on the top of her dress – and turned to him to say good bye, was her answer and his prison sentence.
They were not going to date. He would not be able to drive himself into her when he needed her, wouldn't be able to watch her explode beneath him as he brought her past her natural reticence to keen and cry and cling to him.
He was standing there, watching her, fists clenched at his sides, looking like a thundercloud, as if he was having to restrain himself from going after her and dragging her back into his bed.
When their eyes met, he ground out, "It feels as if you're running away from me again."
Elle came to stand in front of him. "I'm not running. I'm right here. I'm sure you know where I live, and I know you know where I work. We can email and text, but I don't want to see you. You disturb me too much for me to be able to think when you're around."
He looked obnoxiously happy at this news, although his smile dimmed quickly.
"But I need to think for a moment, and I can't when my mind – and my body – is full of you. I'll try not to take too long, because if I decide against giving this – thing, whatever we have between us – a try, I don't want to take up any more of your valuable time."
She found herself hauled up against him as he bent her back over his arm. "Stop talking to me like I'm some pool boy you have to turn down gently." His fingers caught in her hair, forcing her head back as his lips hovered over hers and he whispered fiercely, "I will be your lover. I will be your Dom. And, eventually, when the time is right, I'll be your husband and the father of your children. You take whatever time you need to reach a conclusion that I know you already know in your heart."
She thought his kiss would be rough and demanding, but instead it was heartbreakingly sweet.
Then he straightened them both up and set her away from him, cupping her chin. "Take care of yourself as I would take care of you. If I find anything amiss when we come together again, I'm going to hold you to account."
He sounded so sure and confident, as if he had absolutely no doubts about how she was going to decide.
She couldn't determine if it was wishful thinking or an attempt to brainwash her – in either case, he was entirely too potent for her to just stand there in front of him, or she'd end up in his arms again – or beneath him on the carpet, from the lustful way he was looking at her.
"I'll keep in touch."
"You'd better," he warned, walking with her to the door, which he very politely held open for her to walk out. Elle didn't hear him close it, and she knew he was watching her walk away from him.
"You're mine, Elle Marden. Don't you forget it."
When she turned in the elevator to punch the button for the ground floor, he was still standing in his doorway, arms crossed over his chest, feet in a wide power stance, staring at her unblinkingly as the doors closed in front of her.
AT HER DESK, a few days later, she was deeply involved in the contents of a spreadsheet when she heard a commotion like the one she'd heard when he'd arrived the last time.
"It's him again!"
Elle slumped in her chair. She'd thought he'd make it longer than this before arriving on her doorstep again. He had been pretty good, though, for these few days. She got a couple of texts. Sometimes, a picture or just something that struck him funny and a nice, chatty email was waiting in her in her inbox every morning, which was when she began to realize just how much of a night owl he was. Each of them ended in several long paragraphs that described, in intimate detail, exactly what he was going to do to her when he got her back and always captioned as something he wanted her to think about.
Each one of them had sent her racing back to bed to take care of herself before work. Damn! The man should be writing porn for a living! Who knew?
She heard him joking and laughing with everyone and could look out and see a sea of abandoned desks and phones, knowing they were all grouped around him like adoring fans as he made his way to her office, which he seemed to be taking his sweet time doing.
Eventually, though, she knew he was standing in her doorway, even before she looked up, becoming almost angry when she saw him. No man had the right to look so blasted good! He had a stubbly goatee going that only added an almost sinister look to his already perfect features, highlighting his cheekbones and full lips.
His arms were outstretched wide as he asked, "May I have a hug?" And she heard the usual chorus of,"Awws!" from his faithful, who were all crowded around him and peering in at her.
She got up with obvious reluctance and walked over to him to be enveloped by him in an absolutely marvelous hug that she couldn't help but return. He was very circumspect, not trying to cop a feel and not saying anything but an almost shyly whispered, "I love you," when his mouth was near her ear.
Then he turned her loose, and she was sorry that he had, saying, "I have to go. I didn't come here to see you; I came to see your boss." Then he turned back to the crowd. "When Al and I get back from our lunch, if it's okay with your bosses, I'll do pics and autographs for anyone who wants one, although I have no idea why anyone would want a picture of my ugly mug�
�"
Before he left, he turned back and caught her wrist, leaning in to give her a warm kiss on the cheek, whispering, "Behave yourself. I'll know if you don't," before he braved the masses of his adoring fans and made his way back to the elevator to meet Al Southgate at his office.
And she went dutifully returned to sit at her desk to create an embarrassing wet spot on her chair.
THAT EVENING, while she was watching a marathon of Downton Abbey – not that she hadn't seen it a thousand times, but she found the characters comforting to watch – she heard her text alert go off.
She paused the show and picked up her phone absently to see who it was and there, right in front of her face, was a pic of his, she had to admit, impressive…equipment, taken into his own hand, already slick with something to aid him in his quite obvious pursuit.
The caption said, Thinking of you…
How romantic, she returned.
Sarcasm noted. I just wanted you to see what you were missing. And what was missing you…
Looks like you have the situation…ahem…well in hand.
LOL. I do. I have to confess that it takes me an embarrassingly short amount of time since I met you.
Thank you?
LOL LOL You're welcome.
Elle wasn't exactly sure what to say in response, so she didn't say anything – but neither did she turn the trials and tribulations of Lord and Lady Grantham back on.
Do you ever think of me when you're…playing the clitar?
For a moment, she didn't get it, and then, still laughing uproariously, she responded.
Bwahahahahaha! Don't do that – I nearly shot coffee out my nose!
Mistressbating? Romancing your own? Jilling off? Rubbing one in?
Stop! Jesus! I had no idea there were so many names for it!
Of course there are. Men are obsessed with sex, and they're particularly obsessed with women and how they have sex – apart, together, we don't really care much, as long as it involves a woman with her own hand down her pants, if it can't be ours.
She typed back with no small amount of regret, And it can't be yours, in your case.
If you want it to be, I can be there in under twenty seconds.
Twenty seconds? Are you standing outside my door?
There was a short pause and then, I was speaking metaphorically, but I bet you went and checked!
I didn't, but I wouldn't put it past you.
I'm not trying to stalk you, you know. I know that must be how it seems.
No, I've never thought that.
Good, I'm glad.
She didn't respond because she kept finding herself scrolling up in their messages, to the pic he'd sent. She'd never been much into porn for porn's sake, and she'd never gotten a dick pic and not immediately deleted it, frankly. But this one…
She opened up her laptop and synched that photo to her hard drive, quick like a bunny.
A horny, horny bunny.
Just in case.
Well, I'm going to go…uh…
I know. Have fun!
If you…do…later, would you let me know if you thought of me at all during?
She was surprised by the request, but answered, Yes.
Thanks.
Elle thought that was it, putting the phone down on her end table, then it chimed again and she saw his favorite admonition to her, You're mine. Don't forget it.
She tried to go back to the Abbey, but it just wasn't doing it for her, damn him. He was an evil, evil man, she said out loud to no one, reaching for her phone to bring into her bedroom, where a pump bottle of lube – that she probably wouldn't need, thanks to him and his not so little pic – awaited on her nightstand.
Minutes later, she came, staring at the photo she'd beamed to her giant screen TV and thinking about just some of the things he'd done to her when she had put herself in his hands.
And then she remembered what she'd told him she would do, and she puzzled over exactly what to say to him. She knew he certainly didn't need any ego stroking, even as fragile as he'd sounded when he'd asked.
So she just sent one word—Done.
Nothing more.
When he got her message, he was stretched out, naked, on his bed, and it put one of the few smiles he indulged in lately on his face.
HE DIDN'T bother her at home at all, but he certainly did at work. It seemed he was there more than she was lately! He stopped in for a hug every time he went to see Mr. Southgate, which seemed to be a daily occurrence.
She didn't really think much of it, except as it pertained to her and their hiatus, until her friend, April, slipped into her office one day and closed the door, looking around furtively as if she thought they were being spied on.
"What is it?" Elle asked in a hushed whisper. "Have the Belgians finally invaded?"
April looked as if she was speaking Klingon. "Belgians?"
Elle shrugged. "At least we'd get better chocolate out of it. I can only hope."
April dismissed any of her ravings automatically that didn't make sense to her. Whimsy was not in April's repertoire. "Have you seen how many times your boyfriend has waltzed in and out of here?"
She frowned. "He's not my boyfriend."
"Okay, your whatever it is that you want to call it that means the same damned thing as boyfriend. He's getting all chummy with the big boss."
"Seems to be." She didn't know any more than April on that score, nor did she want to, really.
Her friend seemed indignant. "And that doesn't worry you? Is that because your sugar daddy's going to take care of you after he buys us and fires us in one fell swoop?"
On a long-suffering sigh, she explained, "If he's not my boyfriend then he's definitely not my sugar daddy. And why should he buy us? And then why would he fire everyone? That doesn't make any sense."
"That's how it goes. You know what mergers are like. We've been lucky because old man Southgate's been the one doing the buying, but I've been to the other companies we've taken over, and it ain't a pretty picture on the other side. Not good for the average employee at all."
Having imparted that bit of juicy gossip for her to worry over, April departed, considering it a job well done, to sow seeds of discontent and doubt in someone else. As Elle couldn't seem to pry her mind away from the idea, suddenly, especially when she realized that he could use that threat – or, if he went through with it, his position – to pressure her into giving him an answer – specifically the answer he wanted.
He didn't seem like that kind of person to her at all, but then, it wasn't as if she'd known him for decades.
THE MORE SHE THOUGHT, the more she worried, and the more the seed of April's concern festered within her, and that night, she didn't just text him, she called him.
"Why, hello, Elle, baby, are you all right?" He'd seen whom it was calling him and had never punched "accept" so fast in his life.
She could hear the very sincere concern in his tone, even over all the background noise, and his use of that endearment went straight to her heart – amongst other places. "I'm fine – where are you?"
"I'm in Dallas, at the airport, on a business trip. I'll be in my hotel in about a half hour. May I call you back?"
His manners never failed to amaze her. That, and the sharp contrast between how excruciatingly polite he was normally and how he was in bed, was definitely something she found intriguing about him – along with almost everything else.
"Yes, of course. Drive carefully."
CHAPTER 8
I t was more like an hour before her phone rang again.
"Sorry for the delay. Traffic was a bitch, but I just stepped through the door."
She felt bad that he thought it was some kind of emergency. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you think you had to hurry because of me."
"Elle," Alt said very calmly. "I would do anything for you. I'm taking you at your word that you are okay, but you called me. Since I see so little of you now, this is very special to me. Of course, I was hurrying.
I want to hear your voice in my ear. I want to hear you laugh and talk to me about your day." His tone lowered at least a full octave. "And I want to fuck you so badly I'm nearly coming in my pants as we speak."
He cleared his throat. "But that's a constant frustration that I am very reluctantly learning to live with. To what do I owe the honor of this call?"
She couldn't see any way but to come right out and say what she was worried about. "Are you buying Southgate Electronics?"
Not quite what he was hoping she might want to talk about, but he'd use any excuse to keep her on the phone. In this case, he was finding that it was better if he tucked away his pride, at least for the time being. He'd take what he could get from her, which was precious little, lately, and it was driving him to drink.
"What makes you think that?"
"Don't. Do. That. Don't answer my question with a question; it annoys the ever-loving fuck out of me. Just answer my goddamned question."
"No, I am not buying Southgate Electronics."
"Oh."
She sounded vaguely disappointed.
"And if you ever speak to me in that tone again, hiatus or not, you're going find yourself one very unhappy little girl."
"I'm sorry. I was just worried."
"And now you sound let down. Would you rather I did buy it?"
Elle began to twist her hair, which was always a sign that she was worried. "No, I just – someone put a bug in my ear about you being around so much."
"Your work is the only place where I get to see you and even hug you." There was a short silence, then, "Hmm. Maybe I should buy the place…"
"No, you shouldn't."
"And then I'd be your boss." He made the last word sound infinitely dirty. "Have you ever fucked your boss, Elle?"
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