“Are you awake now?” I sat on the edge of Zach’s massive bed, my fingers fisted in the cool fabric of his sheets. The way they were tangled over the massive mattress spoke volumes about the nightmare that still clung to him with dark tendrils.
Though my entire being shied away from the thought, I recognized the blackness that hung around him like a shroud. It took me right back to those awful first months after I had lost my parents. Zach’s grief, though he refused to share it with me, opened the wound back up like the slice of a scalding knife.
That, though, was the entire reason I had forced myself to stay, to move past the sensation of his fingers digging into my arms, of the fear I had felt when he had looked into my eyes and not recognized me.
I understood. I suspected that many of the people who surrounded him didn’t . . . and that was if they even bothered to look closely enough.
“I’m awake now.” Zach’s eyes, though now free of the fog of sleep, were shadowed with the ghost of something painful. He stood facing me, naked and completely unself-conscious about it. Those eyes were unreadable as they raked over my face.
Though I was wrapped in a soft towel that covered me from shoulders to knees, my damp hair and the rivulets of water that clung to my skin made me shiver. I felt exposed under the intensity of his stare, even though I was covered and Zach was not.
I was entirely out of my element. For years now I had become accustomed to burying every emotion that I had, not having the strength to deal with them. Because of that, I was rusty at handling the onslaught of sensations that this man was continually sending my way.
“Devon.” Bending at the waist, he tangled his hands in my hair, tugging just hard enough to awaken the nerves that ran over my scalp. I hissed at the seconds of pain I felt, then found my protest swallowed when Zach took my mouth with his own.
“Zach!” My head swam as he kissed me with a fervor that said he would die if he didn’t have me right then and right there. For a moment I held still, frozen in place, still disconcerted by the morning but not wanting to reject him.
The way his lips slanted over my own, the slight pain from the tugs on my hair, broke through my uncertainty, shattering it like a pane of glass. Responding to the heated need that was emanating from him in storm-sized waves, I dug my fingers into his broad shoulders and pulled him closer, opening my mouth eagerly for his tongue.
A sound of approval rumbled through his throat. Removing one hand from my hair, he parted my knees and slid his hand up the insides of my thighs, which were naked beneath the plush towel. He moved swiftly to the heat of my pussy, which was already wet with want.
He slid one finger inside of me without warning, and I cried out against his lips. My mind went blissfully blank as my hips moved, trying to get closer to him.
When he abruptly broke the kiss and moved away, I shivered at the cool touch of the air where the raging inferno of his body had been. I watched, the air in the room thick with silence as Zach padded across the plush carpeting to his dresser. His entire body, in all of its muscular glory, was exposed to my gaze, and I drank in the sight.
Opening and shutting the top drawer, Zach pulled an object from its depths. When he turned and the long coil of braided leather fell from his hand to the floor, my stomach clenched.
“Zach . . .” I was not in the mood for play. Though he had apologized, albeit stiffly, for grabbing my arms, and though I truly believed that he had been asleep still and hadn’t recognized me, the intimacy of the night before was gone.
I didn’t think that he would hurt me—in my very core, I believed this. But the darkness that shrouded him as he moved to stand directly in front of me sent shivers dancing over my skin.
I opened my mouth to say something, and was startled into silence when Zach put the whip into my hands. The leather of the handle was cool against the clammy skin of my palm.
I tilted my head and peered up at him with wide eyes.
“I want you to whip me.” I heard the dominance that he had shown me a taste of the night before, but it was twined with a thread of grief so deep that he seemed to choke on it. When my eyes met his, I saw that agony threatening to overwhelm the big, beautiful creature in front of me.
Under my searching gaze, Zach’s face became shuttered. He replaced anguish with arrogance and authority.
“I told you to whip me.” His voice was like a whip itself, lashing against my bare skin.
I swallowed hard. Part of me was drawn to what he represented in that moment, pain and dark clouds bound up together with pleasure. I wasn’t sure that I liked being drawn to the darkness, especially not right then.
Everything in me wanted to please this man . . . but I didn’t feel that a whipping would ultimately bring him pleasure.
“Devon.” Dominant Zach faltered for a moment, allowing me a glimpse into his nightmares. What I saw there—pain and agony swimming up from the dark depths of his eyes—made pity roll through my gut.
He was asking me to help alleviate his pain, though I didn’t quite understand how whipping him would do so.
Still, how could I possibly say no to this man, when he had already brought so much to my life?
Biting my lip until the taste of blood spread out over my tongue, I wrestled with the decision in my head, though I ultimately knew what I was going to do. At my core, I wanted to obey and please him. Was even excited by the idea.
I just wished I had assurance that striking him would bring him peace.
Cringing inwardly, I lifted my head and held out the whip. “You’ll have to show me how.”
His breath rasped out of his lungs in a harsh burst, and I realized that, dominant or not, he was as uncertain about this as I was.
Uncertain, but still aroused. As he reached out for me, helped me off the bed, his cock hardened swiftly. The hot silk of it brushed my hip through the gap in my towel, and as conflicted as I was in that moment, everything in me tightened with desire at his touch.
“Like this.” Pulling me against him, my back to his front, he helped me position the handle of the whip in my hand and covered my fingers with his own. “The power comes from your body, not your arm or your wrist.”
Lifting our twined arms, he brought them down swiftly, and I felt the ripples through the muscles of his torso. The braided leather of the long, serpentine whip carved through air that was thick with tension, its harsh crack muffled only somewhat by the soft carpet that it bit into.
Air left my lungs in a heated rush; my nipples tightened, and moisture slicked my inner thighs. I was still so uncertain, but at the same time I saw with startling clarity the relationship between pleasure and pain. Wielding the whip felt powerful, decadent. Dangerous.
What would it feel like to stripe skin with the scarlet kiss of the leather? Or to feel that touch, myself?
Every person that I knew in my old life would have been appalled by how much I was drawn to the idea. I battled with the shame, myself. I knew that my participation was mostly for Zach, but I couldn’t sort out in my brain what was drawing me in otherwise, like a moth to brilliant flame.
Trying to clear my mind, I breathed in, then out. With wide eyes I twisted and looked up at Zach. The pain was still there in his eyes, but so was hunger—hunger for me.
“Again.” He rasped the word out hoarsely, lifting my arm with his, swinging them together. It cracked against the floor again, and then again.
My breathing became faster, and I pressed back against him, craving his heat. After three practice lashes, Zach tenderly untangled his fingers from my own and stepped back, leaving the whip trailing from my hand.
With one finger he traced a warm path from the nape of my neck and down to where my skin met the edge of the plush towel. Inserting a finger between the cloth and my back, he tugged gently and the towel tumbled to the floor around my ankles.
He continued to trace the path down, his finger sliding over the contours of my body, all the way into the cleft that divided my buttocks. My mouth was dry, and my tight grip around the handle of the whip became damp with sweat.
“You’re ready.” I inhaled sharply when his finger moved swiftly down the entire length of my cleft until it pressed against the engorged nub of my clit. My hips pressed against his touch instinctively.
He moved in front of me, and I shivered at the loss of his heat against my back. Striding to the large wooden chest of drawers from which he had removed the whip, he placed his palms flat on its varnished surface and bent at the waist, allowing me full access to feast upon the hard planes of his shoulder blades and back, narrow waist, the lean hips and taut ass.
Although the erotic encounter had aroused me, I didn’t want to mar his burnished skin, and hesitated to lift the whip.
“Devon. Now.” Even when he was bent in supplication, his voice was layered with dominance, and I itched to obey. “You won’t hurt me.”
I would hurt him, though, and that was what he was counting on. I blinked, my vision clearing as my hand faltered before I lifted the whip even halfway.
He was asking me to do this because he wanted to be punished, punished for whatever demons had danced through his dreams.
I couldn’t, not when he was clearly unwilling to share those demons with me. This was not how I longed to help him.
More so, I wouldn’t. Though I had only begun to know myself, I knew that I couldn’t be a party to this.
“No, Zach.” I extended the hand holding the whip. It was a beautiful instrument, long and sleek, the color of warm brandy. It enticed me, it aroused me, but the thought of using it on Zach made me sick.
Turning slowly, Zach scowled at my outstretched hand.
“Are you defying my order?” I might have quaked, had I not seen those shadows still playing over his face. He hid them well, but they were there, barely discernible to the naked eye.
“This order doesn’t have anything to do with me or with sex, Zach.” Pain clutched at my own heart as I spoke. His eyes narrowed, he took the whip from me, his body stiff with anger.
It was over. I knew that he wouldn’t tolerate the disobedience, or, perhaps more accurately, the fact that I had seen a glimpse of his vulnerability. I didn’t have a chance.
It shouldn’t have hurt so very badly after being with him such a short time, but it did.
“You don’t know a thing about me, little girl.” The words were meant to be cruel—and they struck home. Emotionally I was reeling from the blow, but I lifted my chin and looked at him straight on.
I wasn’t going to make it easy.
“I need to get ready for work.” The tension of the moment was broken, but only on the surface. Zach moved toward the bathroom, his movements casual and arrogant. “There is a spare room next to this one. Your things are in there.” He closed the bathroom door, shutting me out.
The king of his castle, dismissing his cheap whore.
I wanted to cry. Even knowing that this wasn’t about me, not really, I felt sick.
Well, what had I expected? I barely knew the man, and he didn’t know me any better. It had been foolish of me to expect his confidences.
No matter how right it felt when we were together. I stared down at the whip in my hand, the gorgeous swath of leather, then threw it onto the bed as if it were burning my palm.
I never wanted to see the thing again.
From the bathroom I heard the sound of the shower turn on. Shaking and unnerved, I surveyed the room for my clothes. They were nowhere to be found—that had been what he’d meant when he’d said my things were in the next room.
Fine. I’d walk down the hall in my towel, no matter how uncomfortable that made me. I didn’t have another choice, after all. I stooped and picked it up off the floor, wrapping the towel around me again and cinching it tightly across my breasts.
I drew comfort from its soft warmth, though it didn’t do much to ease my chill.
I shrieked when I opened the door to the bedroom and found Charles on the other side, his hand poised to knock. I clutched the towel to my breasts, waiting for the older man to turn away in embarrassment, as I did.
He didn’t. He looked me in the face without a trace of the mortification that I was feeling. His scrutiny made my skin flush the color of red wine.
“Good morning, Miss Reid. If you’ll follow me, I will take you to your room.” My room? Surely that had been a slip of the tongue. I frowned as Charles turned away from me, his manner the same as it would have been if I were fully clothed.
He seemed awfully good at this. Perhaps he was used to leading half-naked women around Zach’s mansion. The thought had a scowl furrowing my brow.
“This way please, Miss Reid.” Charles opened a door that lay halfway down the wide hallway. The first signs of pale morning light were beginning to filter through the vaulted skylights, and when I looked down, I saw that the skin of my legs was very white in the watery light.
“Thank you . . . um, Charles.” Clutching my towel ever more tightly to my chest, I slipped past the man and into a bedroom that wasn’t nearly as massive as the master one, but was still much larger than my hotel room. A pile of neatly folded clothing lay on the large iron bed that was draped in an expensive-looking charcoal satin quilt.
Swallowing my modesty, I turned back to the stern man who still stood in the arched doorway.
“Charles, if you could give me a minute to dress, do you think you could please take me back to my hotel?” I winced as I spoke—the fact that I was still living in a hotel sounded so tawdry. I needed to remedy that, and soon.
That is, if I stayed in San Francisco. I was paid well at Phyrefly, but after fucking my boss, was my job secure?
I thought I saw a flicker of pity flash over the man’s normally stoic face, and then he shook his head slowly. He stood so rigidly that not a single other part of his body shifted when he moved his head.
“I’m sorry, Miss Reid. Mr. St. Brenton has left orders for you to dress and eat, and then you are to travel with him to the office.” My mouth fell open slightly.
He had left orders, had he? When, and how? Had he called from the bathroom, after insinuating that he wanted nothing more to do with me?
Did he really dare to expect me to listen to him, after how he had just treated me?
“Thank you, Charles.” I tried to suppress the sparks of anger that ignited my voice—it wasn’t this man’s fault, after all. No, my current anger was directed solely at the thickheaded man who was showering in the ostentatious barn of a bathroom.
“I’ll get dressed. I don’t usually eat breakfast, so I hope you haven’t gone to much trouble. I don’t think I’ll be making an exception today.” I saw the corners of Charles’s mouth quiver, and drew my eyebrows together in irritation. I thought that he might be about to chastise me, but then I realized that he seemed amused—yes, very slightly amused.
Well, then. Perhaps people didn’t often make a habit of challenging Zachariah St. Brenton’s orders.
Thinking back to the visual of him leaning against his dresser, commanding even as he offered himself up, I realized that a strong, proud man had relinquished his power to me. And I had shoved it back at him, knowing that I didn’t have it in me to cause him pain.
I had nothing left to lose.
“After I dress I’ll go wait at the door to the garage.” Well, I would if I could find it. Regardless, I wasn’t going to suffer through an awkward meal, whether Zach was present or not. I couldn’t picture sitting next to the man who had placed a whip in my hand, neither of us speaking, as we ate pancakes and scrambled eggs.
“Very well, Miss Reid.” The amusement had been banked by the time Charles left the room and shut the door behind him. Finally alone, I closed my eyes for a long moment and pressed my fingers to my throbbing temples.
Even if Charles wouldn’t go against Zach’s orders and drive me back to the hotel, I was sure that I could have convinced him to at least call me a cab. He struck me as the type of man who would be a sucker for a damsel in distress, and I was feeling very distressed, indeed.
But there was one thought that held me back from calling out to him. If I had Charles call me a cab, then this—whatever “this” was between Zach and me—was truly over.
It was cowardly, but I wasn’t sure that I was ready to face that. Pain ripped through my heart when I thought of how coldly Zach had left me alone in his room. He might have already made the decision for me.
I sighed shakily. This intense spectrum of emotion was exhausting. Letting the towel drop to the floor, I reached for the clothes that were folded so neatly. I frowned when I realized that they weren’t mine.
Instead of the floaty ebony skirt and matching blouse that I had been wearing the day before, I found a pair of sleek black dress pants, an incredibly soft cardigan, and matching shell. The pants looked expensive, and the sweater set was pure, luxurious cashmere.
Squeezing my eyes shut against the migraine that suddenly threatened, I tried to process the fact that there were shoes as well—black pumps with a high, sexy heel.
He hadn’t forgotten the underwear, either, ever so thoughtfully providing a pair of sheer bikini panties and a matching lace-edged bra, also colored in my favorite raven black.
Zach had been with me since we’d entered his house last night, so he had sent someone—probably Charles—to buy me new clothes. While it was thoughtful, it was also horrifically embarrassing.
Someone else had selected my underwear. This just wasn’t something that I was prepared for. The thought of stoic Charles, with his bulging muscles and buzz cut, sifting through a rack of ladies’ panties, had me swallowing back a laugh that was tinged with hysteria.
Ridiculous. This was all just insane. How on earth had I found myself here?
I thought of barging back into the master bedroom, of demanding to know where my own clothes were—my affordable, sensible clothes.
I . . . couldn’t do it. No matter how bad the scene in Zach’s bedroom had been, the fact that he had thought to save me from the morning-after walk of shame was a sweet gesture. I couldn’t find it in myself to throw it back in his face, no matter how angry I was with him.
And as I swallowed my pride and dressed in the clothes, I had to note that they fit me better than my own had, almost as if they had been made for me, or had at least been tailored to my specifications. They were also a much finer quality than anything I could afford. I tried to ignore the designer name stitched into the sole of the pump, because if I let myself think about it, I’d choke on the amount that they must have cost.
The clothing was all black, something else that didn’t escape my notice.
Someone was paying attention.
I found an array of cosmetics in the en suite bathroom, everything from deodorant to mascara to perfume. Everything was still in its packaging.
They were all the brands that I used, even the toothbrush, an exact duplicate of the one on my hotel room counter, bright pink color and all.
A gnawing sensation made its presence known in the pit of my stomach as I slapped on a minimal amount of makeup, just enough to help diminish the dark circles in the thin, ghostly skin under my eyes. I pulled my damp, bedraggled hair back into a ponytail, tucking the wisps that wouldn’t be tamed behind my ears. I couldn’t reconcile the man who would take the time to find out what kind of lip balm I preferred with the specter who had handed me a whip. And neither of those images would merge at all with the dominating creature who had enthralled me since the moment I laid eyes on him.
Who, exactly, was Zachariah St. Brenton? There was nothing in this spare room to tell me—nothing personal at all. And though I could see more of the house in the early-morning light, nothing new was bared to my eyes as I cautiously left the bedroom I had been in and retraced the route to the garage.
“Can’t you do a single thing that you’re told?”
I whirled, startled at the forceful voice, and pressed my back flat against the cool plaster of the wall. Zach stalked toward me, irritation painting his features with shadow.
He was dressed for work, his black suit fitting so perfectly to his amazing body that I was very nearly jealous of the fine cloth. His tie was dark red today, and my fingers itched to undo it as my mouth watered.
No man should look so damn good. It wasn’t fair to those of us who were supposed to function around him.
“I would do as I was told if it made any sense to do so.” As much as a raw need clawed at me at the very sight of him, I hadn’t forgotten what had transpired between us. Anger sliced at me like razor blades. It was irritating that he looked just perfect, while I was emotionally wrung out, pale and exhausted. “It wasn’t fair for you to ask that of me, Zach.”
He halted in midglower, surprise and—was I imagining it?—uncertainty flickering over his face. Feelings that I didn’t quite understand made me tremble as I watched him struggle to get himself under control.
I knew that he wasn’t as flawless as most of the world saw him, though to me his shadows made him all the more intriguing. Was I the only one who saw more than the good looks and the money?
Zach moved quickly. Before I could breathe again, I was caged where I stood, my back to the wall, a strong arm on either side of my head. Surrounded by him this way, I could smell soap and cologne and that scent that I had become so intimately familiar with the night before—that essence that was uniquely him.
I raised my head, hoping desperately that he would brand my lips with his own, and cursing myself for wanting it all the same.
The kiss didn’t come. Instead he looked down at me, that intense stare scorching me wherever it touched.
“Zach . . .” The word was a whisper as it left my lips. As if I had burned him, he jolted back, putting space between us in more ways than one.
I dropped my stare and swallowed thickly, wishing I could somehow ease whatever it was that tormented him. If whipping him would do it, then I’d lash his skin in a moment; but I just couldn’t see how raining blows down on his skin would exorcise the pain he was so clearly trying to tamp down.
If only he understood that.
“Are we leaving now?” I needed to break the silence that felt as if it might choke me with every breath.
Zach pulled his arrogance around him like a cloak, dismissing me as if he hadn’t been a whisper away from claiming me only moments ago.
“Charles will drive you to the office now.” Despite the expression on his face that told me he didn’t care how I got to work, one way or the other, I knew that a man who had ordered someone to buy me lacy underwear cared. It was so incredibly frustrating, the way he chose to show it. “I will follow later. If we arrive together it will cause unnecessary gossip.”
I nodded, partially relieved, half-disappointed, and full of fatigue.
“And I trust that you will be extremely discreet at Phyrefly.” His raven-dark eyes bored into my own, and I knew that this was one order I would not disobey. “Gossip isn’t going to hurt the man who signs the paychecks. But it could be very damaging to someone new, someone with a lot of potential. I won’t have that.”
Though his face still seemed carved from stone, Zach’s words showed me that alluring and compelling side of him again. I very nearly groaned with frustration.
How could I show him that I saw it, and that I was drawn to it?
“Thank you for the clothes.” Slowly I raised a hand to the scooped neckline of my shell. My fingers caught at the wool, relishing the softness.
Zach’s gaze followed the path of my fingers, and then moved farther down. A slight heat colored his skin, and when I dared to glance down, I saw that his cock had risen and was tenting the front of his suit pants.
He was thinking of the underwear that he had ordered to be purchased for me; I could see it on his face. Since he had been with me, he didn’t know what it looked like, and the thought had gotten him hard.
My pulse increased, my heart fluttering against my rib cage as heat descended over me. No matter what had happened, I wanted him.
He wanted me.
He said nothing in response, instead nodding and turning to walk away.
• • •
It had been a week.
I sat at my desk, unable to concentrate, for the umpteenth time. I was falling behind in my work, and my supervisor, Mrs. Gallagher, had been hounding me all day about a report that was to be turned in that afternoon. Each day it had gotten worse. I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t eating.
I sipped at a cup of sweet strawberry hibiscus tea that I didn’t particularly want, but I soaked in the heat of the ceramic mug against the chilled skin of my hands, and tried to focus.
“But it could be very damaging to someone new, someone with a lot of potential. I won’t have that.” Zach’s last words to me had told me that he felt something for me—something more than the lust that raged between us whenever we were in the same room. Despite every lecture that I had given myself in the last week, I had hoped for . . . something from him. Some gesture, or communication between us.
Instead it was as if we had never met. No phone calls, no texts—I hadn’t even seen him inside the Phyrefly building. I wanted to take the elevator to the top floor, to storm past Philippa the paper-doll princess, to confront Zach and ask him what the hell was going on.
My fling with him was supposed to be different from every other relationship that I had had. I was supposed to leave it feeling stronger, more secure in myself. Instead the weeklong silence had left me feeling even worse than I had right after I’d discovered Tom’s infidelity.
Though I had been with Tom for much longer, the intensity of my feelings for him were a pale shade of what I already felt for Zach.
It was equally tempting to put down my tea, to walk out of the Phyrefly building and to never come back. To go back to the familiarity of Sacramento—though not to Tom—or to someplace entirely new, where no one knew me or had any expectations of my behavior.
Yet, deep down, I didn’t want to run anymore. I liked this job. I liked this city.
And more than any of that, I knew that there was more to be explored between Zach and me, even if he was too stubborn to admit it.
I scowled as I set my mug down on my desk hard enough that Tony looked over from his own workstation, which was beside mine.
“Everything all right?” He had been nothing but impeccably polite to me since Zach had warned him away, but I had still caught him checking out my ass when he thought I wasn’t looking. I didn’t really mind—it was nice to be found attractive, and Tony was a good-looking man. But his ogling didn’t do any more for me than raise my spirits for a moment or two.
The mere thought of Zach looking at me in any way at all, even with that terrifying glower of his, made my temperature rise.
As if my thoughts had become real, I looked up across the busy accounting office, and met the stare of the man himself. My lips parted involuntarily with shock, and my pulse felt like a flock of birds had taken flight in my veins.
There was heat in his stare, and he looked me over thoroughly as I gaped at him.
Then, as if our gazes hadn’t connected intimately, he turned back to the group of suit-clad men and women that he was ushering into the conference room.
My vision was shaded with crimson. I had never before felt fury like I did in that moment. I was on my feet and halfway across the room before I even realized what I was doing. I vaguely heard Tony call my name; I didn’t care.
Zach had no right to treat me this way. No right to use me the way that he had.
I wasn’t going to be anyone’s doormat, no, not ever again.
I had very nearly marched into the conference room behind the group when I thought of what Zach would do if I embarrassed him in front of his staff. I could picture the thunderclouds on his face, the fury radiating from his frame.
Above all else, I wanted to please this man, and so my steps halted. It also crossed my mind that I wanted to keep my job.
Inhaling deeply, I turned and marched back to my desk. More than one head turned my way with curiosity, and though my face flamed, I ignored them all and seated myself at my desk again.
I could feel Tony’s eyes, watching me warily. I pretended to be scrolling through a report on my computer, when in reality I was watching the words whirl by in a stream of black on white.
To make my hands stop trembling, I lifted my mug, sipped at the sweet tea. The heat warmed my insides very slightly, and I calmed, but only a bit.
For my own peace of mind, I had to speak with Zach. I almost wished that I had found the strength to continue into the conference room, because I was finding it hard now to pull out the strength to confront him.
“Do you have a minute, Devon?” Tony’s face was a study in wariness when I looked over at his desk. Though I wanted to snarl, deep down I knew that it wasn’t him I was angry at.
Forcing my lips into a semblance of a smile, I raised my eyebrows questioningly.
“I wondered if you could take a look at the first-quarter report for Spartacus Records.” The record company was a big client of Phyrefly, purchasing their private jets solely from us. “I’ve input something wrong somewhere, and I’ve gone over it three times, but I just can’t find it.”
Numbers. Spreadsheets. I could do this. Within minutes Tony had sent the file to my computer and I was poring over it with enough concentration that my anger ratcheted down a notch.
“Here!” Excited when my eyes locked in on the error, I gestured Tony over, pointing to the place on the screen. “It’s right here, in Column D.”
“How the hell did you find that so fast?” The look that Tony gave me was filled with admiration, and I wasn’t so upset that I missed his up-and-down stare. “This spreadsheet is pages long.”
“Oh.” Flushing at the praise, I pointed to the total at the bottom of the column. “Well, when two columns should balance and don’t, an easy check is to subtract one total from the other. If the difference is 1, 10, 100, 9 or 99, then you’ve probably made an error in addition. In this case you typed an O instead of a zero, and it threw the math off.”
“You’re amazing.” Tony leaned in slightly, the interest on his face easy to read. I swallowed forcibly, wishing with all of my might that it were Tony, or someone like him, whom I was attracted to.
Life would be much, much easier if I were.
As if on cue, I felt that tingling sensation on my skin, the one I got when Zach was near. I looked up and across the room to find him standing just outside the conference room door, speaking with a member of the team that he had been meeting with.
His eyes were fixed on Tony and me with our heads together, and he did not look impressed.
A tremor ran through me. He would be alone in a moment. This was my chance.
I had to do it before I lost my nerve.
“Tony, could you excuse me for just a moment?” I smiled at the man with as much sincerity as I could muster. It wasn’t his fault that I was fixated on someone whose mood swings gave me whiplash.
“Sure.” Tony’s stare followed mine as I stood and smoothed my skirt. He frowned, his brows furrowing together. “Devon, I know no one can hold a candle to the amazing St. Brenton, but I can guarantee that I’d treat you better.”
I smiled at Tony, and the smile held more than a bit of regret. I couldn’t bear the idea of hurting his feelings, so I opted to skirt around the truth of the matter, which was that after Zach, I wasn’t sure I would ever be attracted to anyone else.
“Too bad coworkers in the same department can’t date.” Tony snorted through his nose, seeing through my bullshit. But as he made his way back to his desk he made sure to rub a hand over my shoulder with a grin.
“Give him hell, Devon.”
Tony’s words gave me strength. It looked like Zach was close to wrapping things up, so I sucked in a deep breath and hurried back across the room.
He saw me coming, and his eyes narrowed in warning. I felt my fury begin to boil again, rapidly reaching the boiling point.
“Mr. St. Brenton.” I spoke right on the heels of his conversation’s end, knowing that I needed a witness to get him to cooperate. “I need to speak with you for a quick moment, if you don’t mind.”
I kept my voice polite, but the man who had been meeting with Zach looked at me with curiosity, telling me that my anger wasn’t quite as well hidden as I thought.
“I’ll leave you to it.” The man nodded at us both before leaving. Zach moved to go with him, and I hissed.
“I don’t want to make a scene, Zach, but we need to talk. Five minutes. You owe me that.”
Zach’s face showed no emotion as he studied me, his stare hot and steady.
“Very well.” Relief washed through me as he stalked into the conference room, leaving me to follow.
The uppermost layer of my hot wrath evaporated into chills as I found myself suddenly alone with Zach, for the first time in a week. I began to tremble with nerves and anticipation, a heady combination when mixed with abject rage.
I was aware of the curious stares of those outside the conference room, my coworkers trying to watch what was going on without actually seeming like that was what they were doing.
I tried not to show any of my feelings on my face, which was difficult, since I was shivering.
“You can’t treat me this way.” Zach watched me as I spoke, his face impassive. I wanted to cry with frustration. “If what we had was just a fling, then fine. But you should have the courtesy to tell me that we’re through, instead of leaving me hanging. It’s cruel.”
Anger rippled over Zach’s face, but I couldn’t tell if it was directed at me or not. He picked up a remote and pressed a series of buttons that caused the windowed walls of the conference room to become opaque, and excitement licked through me.
“I won’t be just another of your hangers-on, waiting for any scrap of attention that you toss my way.” In the last week I had made the mistake of searching the Internet for information on him, clues to his past. What I had found instead were reams of gossip on the billionaire mogul’s personal life, namely the women with whom his name had been linked.
There were so many—some famous, some not, all gorgeous—that I had felt physically ill.
“Come here.” Zach’s voice was hot and struck straight to my core. My head told me that to obey would be the stupidest thing I had ever done; my body couldn’t have cared less.
I had to struggle to hold myself in place, but I had something that I needed to say before I let him touch me again.
“Are we done, or are we trying to figure out what this is?” It was so hard to hold my voice steady. “I’m not asking you to make a major commitment. But if we’re going to explore this, then I need to know that . . . that that’s what you want.”
If he laid those hands on my skin, and then left me again, I wasn’t sure how I would recover. I would—I could—but I didn’t want to have to go there if we weren’t on the same page.
How could he possibly want me—how had he ever wanted me—after all of those beautiful, smart, accomplished women in his past?
“Devon. Come here.” Cautiously I moved across the large conference room to where he stood, so large and arrogant and male. I could feel the sultry heat of his body, drawing me in, and it warmed me to the marrow of my bones.
Be careful, Devon. More so than any person I had ever known, this man was dangerous.
I stood in front of him, my fingers twisting nervously in the starched fabric of my black button-up blouse. When he grabbed me by the arms and turned me around, pressing my back to the hard length of his front, I gasped, heat pooling instantly between my legs.
I cursed how much he could make me feel with only the slightest of touches.
Fisting a hand in the length of my ponytail, he tugged my head back, twisting until I looked him in the eyes. The licorice-dark depths of his eyes sparked with the same fire that I felt.
“While we are together, no other man touches you.” The words were hot against my ear, and he followed them with a sharp nip of warning on the tender lobe. My throat felt dry, but he pulled my hair again, urging me to answer.
“No one but you.” I whispered. He growled, the sound low and deep.
“Take off your panties.” I inhaled sharply and looked sidelong at the frosted wall that separated us from those milling around outside the conference room. Though when the temporary opaqueness was activated, the wall was impenetrable to the eye—and I had been on the other side during enough meetings to know that it worked—yet I felt incredibly exposed.
The door wasn’t even locked.
“You wanted this, Devon.” With his free hand Zach reached around me to cup my throat, squeezing gently. The gesture reminded me of our night together a week earlier.
I had to trust him, and he me, or this was over before it had even begun.
“Will you help me with my skirt?” I felt excitement whip through his frame, which was pressed so tightly against me. His erection dug into the flesh of my lower back as I bent forward, and I thrilled to the knowledge that I had such an effect on him.
Lowering both of his hands to my hips, he squeezed the flesh there once before gathering the fabric of my A-line skirt in his fingers, lifting my skirt bit by bit.
When I could feel the cool air of the room kiss the skin of my upper thighs, I hooked my fingers in the lace strips that ran over each of my hips. I tugged at the scrap of fabric until it fell to the floor, skimming my legs on the way down.
“Step out.” I did as he said, my knees trembling. “Now pick them up.” He pulled my ass into his pelvis and urged me to bend at the waist. I felt the rigid length of his erection pressing into the heat of my center as I bent and caught the small garment in trembling fingers. I pushed back against him, a sudden wild image of him opening his fly and shoving his cock into my naked heat then and there burning its imprint into my mind.
I felt every inch of his hard flesh as I stood back up.
“Give them to me.” I forced myself to look up, to look into his eyes as he took them from me. They were composed entirely of bits of black lace, and were part of the outfit that had been provided for me at his house a week ago.
They were a far cry from the simple, tasteful cotton that I usually wore. The flicker in his eyes told me he knew that, knew that these were the ones he had given me.
Cupping my jaw in one large hand, he traced a finger over the planes of my face. My mouth was swollen with need.
“Does it excite you, knowing that someone could walk in on us at any minute?” His words caused a tremor to run through me. I licked my tongue over my parched lips. It sounded so dirty, so very unlike something that I would like, but I couldn’t deny it.
“Everything about you excites me.” My voice was soft. Pleasure painted Zach’s features at my words, just for a moment, before his habitual control returned.
Releasing me, he stepped back, putting a definite amount of space between us. Lifting my panties to his face, he held them to his nose and inhaled, looking as though he were sampling the bouquet of a fine wine.
I gaped with shock. Had he really just sniffed my underwear? My eyes widened as he went one step further, tucking the bits of lace into the pocket of his pants. They were so small that it didn’t look as though there was anything there.
“Go back to work, Devon.” Before I could do anything rash, like throw myself at him, he pressed the buttons on the remote and unfrosted the windows to the conference room. Nervously I ran a hand over my disheveled ponytail, then fussed with my clothes before forcing my hands into fists that fell still at my side. Perspiration slicked my skin, clinging at the long wisps of my bangs.
Without having to look, I knew that the eyes of everyone outside the room had swung toward us, on display as we were. I suspected that most people in the cavernous accounting office beyond were watching, too.
I hadn’t been employed there for very long, but I had already come to understand that the employees of Phyrefly Aviation regarded anything to do with their enigmatic CEO with fascination.
We hadn’t been alone in there long enough for anything untoward to have happened. But I knew, and Zach knew, that my underpants were now in his pocket. And I knew that I had turned him on.
“I want those back.” Pasting a smile on my face, I narrowed my eyes to let him know I was serious. “They were a gift.”
Finally, finally, that smile of his that I loved so much made an appearance. He laughed out loud, and I glowered further, even though I was thrilled to have pulled the sound out of him.
“You’ll get them back.” To the people in the hallway, Zach was merely sharing a joke with an employee. I, however, was standing close enough that I could see the dangerous glint in his eyes.
“I intend to deliver them personally.”