Naughty or Nice

by Rachael Stewart

  I’m torn between doing what I want and encouraging her down a path that she might regret.

  If I’d told her one of my messages was from Nate—the first message I’ve received from him since I changed my number all those years ago—would she still have tried to jump me?

  It’s a question I can’t stop tossing around—have been for the last two hours, since closing the door on her.

  I swing from wanting to send an equally angry retort to her brother and then taking what’s on offer in my bed, to protecting her from herself...from me. I’m not blind to the anger that still bubbles beneath the surface. The resentment. It fizzes in my blood at every mention of her family. But my need for her, my love, swamps it.

  Or maybe it feeds it?

  Maybe there is an unconscious need to have what I shouldn’t—to have what pisses them off the most.

  I force my hands to relax and shimmy my shoulders further back—sleep, just sleep.

  Logic tells me to get the deal signed, get her in my life and then go after more. Not to jeopardise the business by encouraging a relationship I’m not sure she can accept. Not when her family are so against it.

  But the alternative—the platonic route—is impossible. No matter how short-term. I need her as much as I need my next breath.

  And then I hear it: the soft glide of the door.

  My fingers twitch; my chest tingles.

  ‘Lucas?’

  Her voice is soft, whisper-like. Has she just woken up?

  I try to appear asleep. I can’t begin to imagine how she looks right now, dishevelled by sleep. Or, if she hasn’t slept, from tossing and turning. Either way my body heats at the very idea.

  ‘Are you awake?’

  Her feet pad towards me and I try to even out my breath, relax. The room goes quiet and I know without looking that she’s studying me.

  One breath in. One breath out. In—

  Her fingers brush gently over my forehead, taking back my fringe, and then her lips are there, soft, caressing.

  ‘Lucas...’

  Oh, God.

  Her fingers slide down over my front and I realise how stupid playing asleep is. Awake, I can stop her. Awake, I can stop the progress of her fingers...

  ‘Lucas, I know you’re awake.’

  My lips curve in a lazy smile. ‘Not one to be easily fooled, are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What gave me away?’

  I open my eyes to meet hers. She’s so close I can inhale her scent, feel the warmth of her body, and that’s when I realise she’s naked, with the low light of the cabin hinting at every glorious curve. Fuck.

  ‘This.’ She rakes a nail over my hardness, and my eyes and body feast on the simple stroke.

  Sure enough, even in this light there is no denying how awake I am—awake and very much under her spell.

  ‘You’re supposed to be asleep—’

  She grips me, and my words become a groan as I shift within her grasp.

  ‘Eva.’

  ‘The way I see it...’ She runs her hand over me, and heat rushes to greet her touch. ‘It will be near enough evening when we get to the hotel. There’ll be time for sleep then.’

  There is no hotel, but I’m damned if I can correct her. I’m trying to focus through a heavy haze of lust. Trying to hang on to what’s right.

  My fingers bite into the upholstery of my seat and my thighs tremble as I press into it, away from her, but she has me. I should extract her hands, make her move away, but I can’t even do that.

  ‘You don’t like being told what to do?’

  She shakes her head, and her teasing lips curve into a smile as she lowers her head to my ear. ‘Especially when I want something as much as I want you.’

  She trails her hot mouth across my jaw as she hooks her leg over me, spreading her heat over my erection.

  ‘And I can feel you want me too.’

  She rides against me and I’m back in that kitchen, with my cock getting the better of me.

  Now I can move. I grip her hips, steadying her, halting her.

  She pouts down at me. ‘Don’t be a spoilsport.’

  Christ, if only...

  I force an arrogant smile. ‘You wouldn’t want Frederick to hear, would you?’

  Her eyes flick briefly in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Worried I’m going to make a noise?’ she asks.

  She tries to move in my grasp and my hold tightens. She’s a minx. An electrifying, dizzying minx. And suddenly I have the desire to do something extreme. Something that will stick the finger up at Nate. Something that will put me firmly in control and to hell with my good intentions.

  ‘Come.’ I lift her away from me and take hold of her wrist, striding to the bedroom before the lustful haze can lift and common sense can prevail. We make it to the bedroom. ‘On the bed.’

  She bites into her lip and lowers herself down onto it, every bend of her body, each slip of her hands over the duvet intentionally seductive.

  ‘I like you like this,’ she purrs.

  Holy fuck.

  I pull my gaze away, stripping off my clothes as she watches me. Not until I’m naked and have the cupboard that contains what I need open do I turn to her, the scarlet strip of silk in hand. A tie. One of my finest.

  She looks from it to me, her brows raising. ‘And what do you intend to do with that?’

  She’s provoking me and my cock fucking loves it. Too much.

  I turn back and take out another tie. I need the second one to keep her under control—to keep myself under control. She’s too efficient at tipping me over. Her hands, her body, her mouth—all dangerous.

  I stalk towards her and she glides back on the bedcovers, her eyes pulling me in, her lips parted, anticipation in her breath.

  ‘Have you ever been gagged?’

  Her eyes flare as she shakes her head.

  ‘Another first, then.’

  ‘Yes.’

  She leans up towards me, offering herself, accepting, and heat sears my gut. So much for keeping it under control.

  I wrap the tie around her mouth, my eyes on hers as I gently tighten it. Her trust, her desire, her... Her what? Love? Hell, it looks like love. It looks like how I feel.

  A very different heat swells, close to my heart, and with it comes that same edge—fear.

  I can’t deal with that right now.

  I tug the strip of cloth tight, the sound of silk on silk a sharp whisper before softening as I tie it into a bow and lean back to take her in.

  Her eyes are wider and her nose flares as she breathes. Her cheeks flush pink and her lips form an erotic O as she tests the binding with her teeth.

  ‘Okay?’ I ask, even though I can see her answer. Her eyes blaze, her nipples are tight, her breasts flush the colour of her cheeks and I know if I dipped my fingers between her legs I’d feel it too.

  She nods, a small sound quivering in her throat.

  ‘Good. Hands?’ My voice is tight with the command and dutifully she straightens up to offer them out.

  I wrap the silk over her wrists, tying them together. She watches every move I make, her breath rasping over the gag, goosebumps prickling over her skin. She is so fucking sexy I’m starting to worry that just the sight of her is going to tip me over.

  ‘Lie back.’

  I help her down and raise her hands over her head, the tip of my erection nudging at her stomach as I move over her. She purposely arches into me, caressing me further. Jesus.

  I fasten the tie-ends to the bar that decorates the bookshelf above the headboard and then back away to kneel over her, drinking in her naked beauty, willing her to be powerless and all mine.

  She wriggles and whimpers, begging me for something, and I smile as she opens her legs to encase me, to draw me in. She’s so wet... Her
need glistens in the low light and I take pity. Just a little.

  I reach forward and run my thumb up her slickened seam.

  She cries into the tie, working her body against my touch, and heat assaults my cock, pre-cum beading at its tip. It’s goddamn erotic, having her like this, at my mercy, and I want to draw it out.

  I climb off the bed and she moans after me, eyes pleading.

  I take a fresh glass from the nightstand and head to the kitchen. Opening the freezer, I fill the glass with ice then return to her, my eyes lazy as they trail over her flushed skin.

  She writhes towards me, her body outstretched, her whimpers begging, and then she spies the glass and stills, her eyes widening.

  I lower myself to the bed, glass in hand, and she watches as I scoop out one ice cube and pop it into my mouth, rolling it around my tongue. She crosses her legs, her thighs clamped together, and I know she’s feeding that ache. The same one that’s throbbing through me for release as I move on all fours above her.

  I drop my head to her neck slowly, teasingly, and I work my icy tongue over her skin, both cube and flesh caressing. Her breath hisses around the gag, her moans teasingly trapped.

  I trail around to her front, to the hollow of her throat, where I dip and release the cube. It melts over her skin, where her pulse is beating a crazy tempo.

  I take up another cube, running it down her front and beneath one breast. Her breath hitches and her body arches, her every reaction feeding my own. I work it in circles, getting steadily closer to where her nipple tightens.

  I lock onto her eyes as I trace around the rose-pink bud. She shudders with a moan, turning her head into the pillow. I move to her other breast, teasing her with the ice, and then my lips drop to the well-worked nipple, my warm mouth a heated contrast.

  Her body becomes tense, her legs wrap tightly over each another.

  I know she’s close, but not yet...

  I rise up onto my knees and trail a fresh cube down her front, letting it rest in her belly button, where the ice water pools as she wriggles. Her eyes are glazed with lust, heavy and captivating, as she watches me part her legs.

  I kneel between them, taking hold of the cube, and trace soft, light circles from her navel to the strip of hair. She is rigid now—ready, waiting—and as I tease her apart with the frozen edge she cries in her throat, her head thrown back.

  I stroke the cube over her so lightly my touch is hardly there, but it’s enough. I can see it in her heightened colour, in the way her breath is ragged over the silk.

  I circle her clit, gently caressing, watching her writhe for more. Her fingers claw in their binding, and her muscles are tight. I know that with one suck of my mouth she’ll be gone.

  She lifts her head and looks to me, desperate, the crazy undulation of her hips begging. I toss the ice and grab her legs, lifting her to my mouth. I’m not soft, gentle, delicate. I’m rough, desperate, eager.

  I claim her as my heart wants to. I drink from her. I dip inside her warm haven and then retreat, grazing her with the flat of my tongue as I slide all the way up.

  The moment I strike her clit, her body spasms out of control. She’s coming, her screams muffled and carnal and snapping my restraint. I flip her over, twisting her binding with the move, and lift her hips to meet me as I thrust, burying myself deep.

  Her tight, wet heat closes around me—so mind-obliterating, so new. She pushes back on her knees, her wrists pulling at the silk tie, demanding more.

  But then I still as the unfamiliar sensation strikes a second’s clarity—condom.

  ‘Shit.’

  I grip her hips to stop her—to stop me.

  She throws me a look over her shoulder, her pleading whimper threatening my resolve.

  ‘Protection,’ I grind out.

  She shakes her head, rocking her body in my hold, clamping her pussy around me. She’s telling me no. And, hell, I know I shouldn’t—but, Christ, I know I’m safe, and I trust her.

  And, oh, my God, she’s pumping me. Back and forward again, her gorgeous body riding me, milking me. Heat rips through my thighs, my gut, my cock, and I’m thrusting hard and fast. There’s nothing delicate about it. I’m fucking her. My hands bite into her skin, her moans are wild, and I want more from her, louder...

  My thighs slap against hers. I take hold of her arse and grip it tight. I rub at the plump flesh and test the surface with the flat of my palm. She looks at me, daring me to do it, her eyes glinting, and I spank her, the slap mixing with the heady sound of her cry.

  I do it again. My blood pulsing with the crazed heat of it. Of letting go. No control. No nothing. Just me and her.

  I feel like I’m punishing her. Some crazy kind of punishment for the sins of her family. But I can’t help it. And she’s taking it all, giving as good as she gets. It’s messed up, but I can’t stop.

  And then I’m coming, pleasure streaking though my limbs, frenzied and out of control, and she’s there with me, her body spasming around me. My cry is so loud the whole jet will hear, but in that second I can’t care.

  I only care for her. And it feels right. So right.

  Fuck Nate. Screw the Beaumonts. She’s mine and I’m keeping her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I THOUGHT THE plane was impressive. I truly did. But now I’m standing in the penthouse of a skyscraper—our home for the next two nights—and I’m starting to forget what reality looks like.

  I have a suspicion that Lucas owns this place. The private elevator to which he has access, the respectful greeting of the staff, the similar decor to that in his London apartment... There’s just something about it that’s all him.

  And now I have it to myself. He’s gone out on some work errand, leaving me with strict instructions to call Room Service for food and get some sleep.

  But, seriously, how do you sleep when you’re surrounded by this?

  I twirl on the spot, my eyes tracing a spiral staircase that looks as if it’s been carved out of a solid marble block, the mezzanine gallery that leads off to the bedrooms, and the outside area that I’ve only just glimpsed. I know there’s a pool out there, just waiting to be used.

  My stomach growls, reminding me of his orders. But Room Service? Really? When Singapore by twilight awaits? No way.

  As Lucas is already learning, I might have followed instruction well as a child, even as a teen, but no more.

  I also have this bubble of nervous energy inside me, and being surrounded by something that is so entirely him is too distracting.

  I rub my wrists. The flesh still tingles where he tied me, and the bubble balloons. Nervous energy. Need, more like. Need and so much more...

  Time to go out.

  I lift my clutch from a sofa that could seat at least ten and head out to the lift area, where I stop in my tracks. There’s a glass wall alongside the elevator that I didn’t see before. I was too wrapped up in Lucas and in following him inside. Now my jaw drops as I take in the sight beyond the glass. A bright red Ferrari and a vibrant blue Porsche stare back at me. I can’t even hazard a guess at how high this rooftop penthouse sits, but surely too high for this, an en suite garage.

  And the cars... I love cars. I have a Porsche too—it’s my one real indulgence. But it’s clear to see, even from this distance, that his is custom-made everything. Unique to him.

  Unique as him.

  I roll my eyes at my heart, which is getting so carried away, and continue to the lift, using a touchscreen to beckon it. Of course it opens immediately, as if it anticipated my request.

  I scan my clothing in the lift mirror: skinny pants and a deep blue silk cami. It’ll do. And I step in.

  It takes me a few tries to navigate the touchscreen inside, and it occurs to me that I don’t have a clue how to get back in. There will be some code—some pass that I need. But I tell myself it’s fine, I’ll speak t
o the lovely staff we saw on the way in. Nothing is insurmountable.

  It’s exactly what I’m planning on doing when the doors open and I step out into the vast lobby. Instead I’m frozen, my feet stuck to the glossy white floor.

  The thing about Lucas is that he stands out. Even more so in Singapore. And there he is, in the middle of the bustling lobby, with a lady. A tall, statuesque Asian woman who is all poise and elegance, exotic and captivating.

  My teeth grit and my heart clenches in my chest.

  Business—she’s business?

  The past rips through me: Lucas the player, all those girls, the women since... This woman.

  And he told me it was me! That I was the reason there’d been so many. And I believed him.

  My body overheats. I’m not only hurt, and embarrassed over my foolishness, I’m livid.

  He moves, and for the first time I see he has a red box under his arm. He hands it to her and she beams, leaning in to peck him on the cheek. I see the intimacy of the gesture, see her stroke the box affectionately, and I’ve had enough.

  I stride forward. I don’t know what I’m going to say but I’m not letting him think he can get away with this.

  But you’re not together. You’re not in a relationship. This trip is about business for him. You’re the one who turned it into more.

  No, he turned it into more when he tied me to his bed, when he screwed me—

  Oh, God, don’t think about that now.

  He cups her elbow and I see they’re about to move off. I’m almost upon them and it’s as if he senses my approach. His head turns and his eyes are on me. They narrow before they lift and he smiles. Actually smiles.

  ‘Evangeline, you’re supposed to be getting some rest.’

  I pull myself up in front of him, hating how hot my cheeks feel and how the beautiful exotic creature with him balances his beauty so spectacularly. Even now, as she studies me with open curiosity, I acknowledge that she is perfect for him.

  ‘I wanted to go out to eat,’ I say. I turn to her, holding out a hand. ‘Hi. I’m Evangeline Beaumont.’

  ‘I know exactly who you are.’