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CHAPTER TEN: DON'T LOOK
“Oh God.”
Her knees gave out completely.
Oh no, no, no.
She crumbled into his arms, his hands catching her. He helped her to the floor atop the piles of discarded clothes.
So many thoughts were slamming loud and restless around her head that she couldn’t concentrate on a single one.
She felt his hands peel the teddy down and away from her body, leaving her all but completely nude in front of him.
Oh God, what had she done?
She felt his hand brush her hair off her face before she curled in on herself. His hand halted and pulled back. She pressed her lips together worriedly. She had to think. Had to make sense of what had just happened.
She had asked him—dared and provoked him—into making her come. It’d been her idea, right? She’d been the one in control. The aggressor. The one in the active and assertive role. Right?
But then she’d begged him. Pleaded for her orgasm, called him Sir as she did, until he gave it to her. That put him above her, didn’t it? Put him in a position of power. Over her.
And now, here she was, boneless and naked except for a pair of stockings and garters, on the floor while he moved about her fully clothed and in control.
She stilled—stiffened and stopped—when she heard a rustle of clothes.
Oh God, was he undressing?
She blinked at the sound of clothes hitting the tiled floor.
Oh God, he was.
How did she feel about that? What was she supposed to think? Do? Did he expect her to sleep with him?
She scoffed. After what they just did, of course he did. What red-blooded man wouldn’t?
She felt her heart race. God, she didn’t know if this was what she wanted. Didn’t know if she was ready for that. She’d only met this man a few days ago. Didn’t even know his name. How could she be thinking about having sex with him? In an unfinished dressing room of an unopened store. In a pile of her crumpled clothes.
But, even as her mind rebelled, her body hummed. Her tender nipples, tingled and tightened, begging for his touch. Her pussy still pounded, clenching at the emptiness between her legs, as if anticipating being filled. Even her hands gripped the top of her arms, longing for something to hold onto—hang onto—while her whole body bucked.
Who the hell was she kidding?
She wanted to. She wanted him. Wanted to fuck him and be fucked, thoroughly and completely, by him.
“Sit up,” he said.
Here it is. She sighed. She held her breath and pushed languidly up. Here we go.
She turned to face him, shocked to find him not only a breath away from her face but, more confusing and disorienting, still fully dressed.
“Here.” He handed her bags filled with the lingerie that had been hanging over the mirrors. Reaching behind her, he grabbed her clothes, forcing her to move off the rumpled bits. “Lift your arms.”
She blinked up at him, bewildered.
“Lift,” he repeated more insistently, gripping her arms and raising them above her head, “your arms.”
Plunking her shapeless white tank top over her head, he pulled it over her body.
“My bra.” She looked about absently.
“Will be thrown,” he informed her, “as will every other one like it you own.”
“They will, will they?” she asked a bit testily at that condescending, commanding comment while he shook out and pulled on her suit jacket.
“Yes.” He pulled her up to her feet. “You’re a beautiful woman, Max,” he said in a strangely uncomplimentary scold. He bent low again. Picking up one foot and then the other, he put her back into her skirt. “You like beautiful things. So you should wear them.” He spun her around so she faced away from him, her ass in his face. “You’ve worked long and hard to do and be what you like, to be so much of a success that no one would dare question anything you do.” With a flick of the zipper, he finished dressing her. “Why shouldn’t that extend to your wardrobe? Why should anyone or anything dictate what you wear?”
“Who says it does?” She gave him a challenging glare.
“Do you like the items you’ve tried on here?”
“They’re very nice,” she admitted, “of course, but—”
“Then you’ve no logical reason not to wear them,” he stated simply. “Do you.”
They weren’t sensible. They were fragile and delicate and entirely too fancy. “They don’t fit in with my life,” she argued. “They don’t fit me.”
He eyed her slowly and sensuously from top to bottom, lingering on her neck, her breasts, hips, and thighs. “I thought they fit quite well.”
She rolled her eyes, even as a blush crept into her cheeks. “They don’t fit into my persona. My,” she breathed deep, tugging at her wrinkled suit, “image.”
He smirked at her, reaching out to capture and tug at a stray strand of her hair. “Then it’s good that one tends to wear these under one’s clothes,” he said sardonically, handing her the pinstripe number, “isn’t it? Try not to flash anyone else and your reputation should be just fine.”
Cheeky jerk.
Funny that it didn’t seem to bother her as much. Hiding a scoffing smile, she grabbed the teddy and jammed it into the bag. “So what now?”
“What do you mean?” He started out of the dressing room, forcing her to follow him, trail after him carrying the ridiculous armload of perfectly inappropriate panties.
He was kidding, wasn’t he? Or playing another game. “What am I in for now?” Private panty show? Amateur lap dance night? Or just straight-up sex?
He frowned and shrugged. “Nothing.”
“What?” It irritated her that she sounded so disappointed. “What the hell do you mean nothing?”
“Its general definition.” He reached into his pockets for the store’s keys. “I didn’t expect to have to give a vocabulary lesson tonight. And to you; you are in publishing, aren’t you?”
She rolled her eyes at him.
He eyed his phone’s digital clock. “I promised Hallie I’d lock up, so—if you could—hit the lights and come along.”
Come along? She balked. Was he serious? She stared, trying to puzzle out his angle, sure he had one somewhere.
“Unless you have something else you need to do?” he said mildly. Casually. As if he hadn’t just fucked her with his tongue!
As if none of it had meant a thing to him.
Something she needed to do indeed! “Nope.” She gathered her bags with a huff. Not a goddamned thing. She shook her head and moved to exit the store.
———
He stared at her, fumbling with her car keys, opening the door to toss the bag of lingerie across the seats with fiery temper. She looked tired. Confused. Frustrated. And a little hurt.
The same strange mix of emotions he was feeling. Loathed as he was to admit it, even to himself. He wanted her. But, more than that, he wanted her to want him.
And, damn if he didn’t hate it that a part of her still held back. That, even while the rest of her melted for him—reached and called to him—a part of her still took one look at him and turned away.
He grunted and stared at her. Looking as exhausted as he felt, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel.
He shouldn’t let her drive home. She wasn’t in the right mindset to do so.
But what could he do?
He couldn’t take her home, his or hers, not without ending up in bed with her. By seduction, by persuasion—God help him—however he had to get there. He wasn’t known for his altruistic methods. Wasn’t known to not press his advantage.
But he wouldn’t do that.
Not to anyone.
Not like that.
And definitely not to this woman. Not when he knew that a part of her would regret it afterward.
He needed to find control.
They both did.
When he finally fucked Max Wells, it wouldn’t be some hurried, rash act rushed into because they were both blinded by lust. When he took a woman, it was because he wanted her. Not because of a fucking need so strong it startled—scared—him. It was true, he was a man who enjoyed the baser, more prurient parts of life, but he wasn’t a man ruled by his dick.
She deserved better from him.
And that took time.
And plans.
He took a deep, steady breath and smiled, his mind already churning.
He rapped on her window while she settled behind the wheel. With an indulgent sigh, she rolled down the glass. “Yes?” she asked, still obviously peeved.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out another page. He held it out to her. “Promise me, Max,” he said, leaning in to stroke the soft skin of her cheek, “that tomorrow, you’ll wear one of those pieces. To the office. All day.”
His gaze dropped to her body, now covered up and hidden from his eyes but not his memory, and licked his lips. “Promise me that you’ll wear it,” he said, imagining it in his mind, “and think of me.”
Because Lord knew, all day tomorrow, he would be thinking of nothing but her.
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