Crave (6 page)

That the lashes had been delivered by the only man she’d ever loved had been divine.

Sarah rubbed her clitoris faster and faster.

Her knees wobbled as the orgasm built. How had she ever thought life would be okay without Reece? And, worse, how had she let herself believe that one scene with him would help her to forget him?

When the hell had she become a master of self-deception?

With her left hand, she pinched her right nipple. The physical spike of endorphins from the momentary pain was all she needed, and she cried out his name as she orgasmed.

For a few minutes she stayed there, until she could stand up and draw a full breath.

She soaped her body and rinsed off in cool water, hoping that she’d look more collected than she felt when she met Reece.

She was still in the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, when she heard a knock on the door.

Her heart leaped, and she was half worried, half hoping that Reece had come looking for her.

Instead, a smiling housekeeper held her skirt, corset and thong. As always, Julien had gotten results. Sarah thanked the woman, gave her a tip then checked the time.

Realizing she had to hurry in order to not keep Reece waiting, she dumped the pile of clothes on the bed then dropped the towel on the floor. She reached for a lacy bra while she debated what to do about the panties. Reece had chastised her for wearing them. But then he’d been offended when Julien had pointed out her lack of underwear.

It probably didn’t matter, she thought as she wriggled her slightly damp body into a pair of boy shorts. Reece had seen her naked and had obviously not been tempted. That she’d had to take care of her own orgasm stung much more than his whip had. The approving note in his voice when she’d removed the corset had given her hope. But he had avoided her pussy when he’d run his fingers up the inside of her thighs. When he’d sucked on her nipples, her expectations had soared. But since he hadn’t touched her and he had passed up an unspoken invitation to fuck her, she suspected that he’d never know what she wore next to her skin.

She stepped into a long, flowing sundress and put on a pair of sandals. After piling her hair on top of her head and securing it with a clip, she applied a coat of mascara. Remembering that he was a fan of red lipstick, she wore that, too.

Realizing she’d used up every second of her allotted time, Sarah grabbed a shawl and her purse then headed toward the elevator.

The doors slid open, and there were at least a dozen people crammed into the car. “I’ll wait for the next one,” she said.

“Get in!” a man shouted from the back. “We’ll make room.”

She squeezed in. Moon Dog or Night Angels, whatever his name was, stood off to the side. His companion had her hand curled around his wrist.

“We wanted to say thanks. Your man let us know the room was available,” he said.

She started to protest that Reece wasn’t hers, but he went on, “He said we could use the cross but not any of the toys. Those are for you.”

That surprised her and made her smile.

The elevator stopped on the eighth floor and, incredibly, two more revelers edged in, creating a loud party atmosphere.

“You’re welcome to join us, have Reece show us a few things,” Magenta added as they reached the first floor.

“I’ll be sure to let him know.” She gave a false, cheery smile before exiting and walking across the lobby.

Outside, humidity drenched the evening air. Noise from the hotel faded into the background. Potted plants lined the sidewalk, and a few palm trees swayed in the light breeze.

As she neared the restaurant entrance, she saw Reece.

He was waiting in the shadows, shoulders against the stucco wall. Her heart stuttered before surging on, thundering in her throat.

The image of him, larger than life, masculine and powerful, transported her four years into the past. She recalled the first time she’d seen him, when she’d walked into his office to interview for the job as his assistant. She’d clutched the handle of her briefcase so hard that her fingers had gone numb.

When he’d stood to greet her, the physical attraction she’d felt for him had unnerved her. Then he’d shaken her hand. She’d been so captivated by his blue eyes and dark good looks that she’d stammered over her own name.

It had taken more than a few minutes for her to relax and for him to focus. He’d seemed distracted with a pile of papers stacked on his desk. His shoulders had been rigid, his demeanor uninviting. In response, she’d perched on the edge of her chair.

It wasn’t until he’d answered a call and knocked over a pile of manila folders that things had changed. While he’d continued his conversation, she’d cleaned up the mess, scanning each piece of paper to ensure that it was returned to the right place.

With a curt nod, he’d acknowledged her help.

Then he’d scowled as he’d listened to the person on the other end of the phone. She’d heard him use the word DeVane, and since she’d seen that file, she had grabbed it, opened it and put it in front of him.

Without looking up, he’d shuffled through the papers, scanned a few of them, given her a thumbs-up and never lost his place in the conversation.

“Well done,” he’d told her when he had hung up.

His approval had tripped through her, heating her. He’d added that he’d never worked so seamlessly with someone before. The rest of the interview had gone well. She’d been surprised and disappointed that he hadn’t offered her a job right away, but she’d respected the way he’d informed her that he had another few candidates to consider and that he was obligated to follow HR’s hiring protocol.

She’d wondered if he’d experienced the same chemical reaction, but had then chastised herself for being fanciful. Pictures of him were often featured on page three of the
Houston Enterprise.
In each, he had a beautiful, accomplished woman with him. He could have his pick of anyone. So why would he be interested in her?

But he had been.

To the point where he’d almost consumed her.

One hour in a private room with him had put her back in that same state. She was thinking about no one but him. This man dominated her thoughts along with her body.

“Good evening, Sarah,” he said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips.

His old-world charm had always undone her. “Reece,” she said.

“You look lovely.”

She knew his compliment was sincere. As she’d learnt, he never said anything he didn’t believe.

“You’re wearing panties?”

Despite the heat, she shivered. “I am.”

“Again, that’s remiss of you.”

“I had no idea it mattered to you.”

“It does.”

Even in the fading darkness, she felt the power of his gaze and heard the tension in his tone.

He gripped her shoulders and maneuvered her so that her back was to the wall. Her insides turned molten.

Reece McRae overwhelmed, consumed her.

Hungrily he slanted his mouth across hers.

Helpless, she linked her arms around his neck. As he demanded entrance to her mouth, she yielded.

His tongue met hers, and she tasted his passion. This was the man who’d captured her heart as well as her body so many years ago. And it was a reminder of why she’d run. When she was this close, her brain function shut down. All that remained were her base needs. She’d do anything, surrender everything.

His cock pressed against her. That he desired her with the same ferocity that she felt for him gave her a heady thrill.

With his tongue, he fucked her mouth, taking her as she’d hoped he would earlier in the meeting room.

“You’re as responsive as always, Sarah,” he said after ending the kiss and easing back a fraction of an inch.

“Only for you, Reece.”

He rained kisses down the column of her throat, reminding her of the time that he’d loved her so completely.

“I meant it when I said I haven’t met anyone your equal.” Even though she’d taken care of herself a little while ago, his touch aroused her again. “You know I wasn’t satisfied after that beating. It was…”

He wanted to know.

“Exquisite.”

“Any bruises?”

She shook her head. “I was hopeful that I’d have one or two as a reminder. But no. Even the one red mark faded.”

“I should put some knots in the end of the tails.”

“Sounds…wicked.”

“It can be.” He took her chin and tipped her head back a notch. “Did you masturbate when you went to your room?” he asked.

“Yes. I did.” She paused. “I was wound up. Lonely. Restless. I hadn’t realized how much I would miss the aftercare you used to give me.”

“It wasn’t just one thing you walked away from.”

“Intimacy,” she said. And that was the first time she’d made the connection. What they’d shared had been deep on so many levels. And the way he’d spend twenty minutes with her after they’d scened had deepened the emotional connection. Sometimes he’d silently hold her. Or they’d talk about business. But he’d always taken time to be there for her, no matter what she’d needed.

“Shall we?” he asked.

Without waiting for her response, he placed his fingers on the small of her back and guided her toward the entrance. The tension that had been simmering heated up.

Possessiveness from this man felt like the right thing.

The maître d’ greeted Reece warmly and led them away from the rest of the guests. He ushered them around a number of potted palms to a secluded table at the edge of the patio. A hedge of sorts served as a natural fence. A number of plants provided an array of color across the space. Even though it was still fairly light out, a candle flickered in the middle of the small table next to a tiny vase with a couple of neon pink blooms in it.

The maître d’ pulled out her chair. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he draped her napkin across her lap.

“May I?” he asked, indicating the bottle of wine that was already waiting.

“Please,” Reece said. After the man poured a small amount, Reece tasted the white wine and nodded his approval.

The man poured two glasses before excusing himself.

“Nice service,” she said.

“Julien wanted to be sure we enjoyed the evening.”

“When did you plan this out?”

“I made a couple of phone calls while you were getting changed.”

“He didn’t leave menus.”

“I took the liberty of arranging the meal.”

“Of course you did.” During the years they’d been together, they’d made a habit of exploring new foods and trying new wines to pair them with. “That’s what Doms do.”

“Are you displeased?”

“On the contrary.”

“You’ve found others to do that for you, surely?”

“Anyone can ask what I want and convey my order to the wait staff. You were different. You took the time to learn about me. You knew my tastes as well as I did.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“No,” she said. “No one else has paid the kind of attention to me that you do. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed you.”

Reece picked up his glass and raised it in her direction. She did the same.

“To old friends,” he said as they clinked their glasses together.

Stung, she took a sip. What had she expected? That he’d respond to her honesty with a wild profession of love? Devotion, maybe? Perhaps the on-his-knees confession that he couldn’t wait to take her to bed and annihilate the tension in her tummy?

“How’s the wine?”

Tasteless.
This was the conversation of acquaintances, not lovers. “Fine.”

“You went to great effort to seek me out, and I’ve decided to hear you out. I want to understand every detail.”

She toyed with the stem of her glass.

“Now start by explaining you why you ran. Continue with the reason you cut off all communication.” He sat back.

The tightness in his voice was the only evidence of his wrath. She’d been wrong to think there was anything benign in his discussion. But she was surprised that she hadn’t seen it earlier. Obviously he was on guard. When they’d been together, he’d never disguised his emotions. He’d expressed his love, his rare displeasure, as well as his attraction for her.

He steepled his hands and studied her with cold, cold blue eyes. It was in that moment that she saw the full effect of the damage she’d caused.

A waiter brought salads, checked to see if they needed anything else then left them in solitude.

“Did you make sure no one was seated near us?” she asked, realizing that some potted palms had been placed between them and the rest of the diners.

“I thought I’d save you the embarrassment of having anyone watch me shackle you to the chair if you started to prevaricate.”

She gasped.

“Said for effect only,” he assured her. “I probably won’t tie you up unless you beg me to.”

Sarah picked up her salad fork.

With a wicked grin, he added, “Upending you over the table and blazing your ass isn’t out of the question, though.”

She dropped the fork, and it clattered onto the side of the plate.

“To make that easier, please remove your underwear.”

“Uhm…”

“Now.”

He lazed back with his wine. His salad sat in front of him, ignored.

“I’m not sure what’s going on here.”

“You wanted to talk, but you also need to be dominated.”

“I’m not certain about that, Reece.”

“Honey, the fact that you sought me out proves that. You didn’t seek me out at the bar. You and Julien colluded to set up an elaborate scene. Getting the St Andrew’s cross and my duffel bag took some doing. Now take off your panties or I’ll remove them for you.”

A little shocked, she sat there.

Motions calm and controlled, he set down the glass, pushed back his chair and stood.

Her mouth dried as she looked up at him.

He offered his hand. As if hypnotized, she tossed her napkin next to her plate, then placed her palm against his. An electrical spark shot up her forearm. With inexorable force, he pulled her up.

“Put your hands on the table,” he instructed when she was only inches from him.

Damn.
The man terrified her as much as he intrigued her. Hadn’t that always been the conundrum for her? Until that last day, when she’d run, desire had outweighed the fear.