Exposed to You (24 page)

Out of nowhere, there
was a flash. Dallon held his phone up—in front of me was a picture of a
wide-eyed girl with bound arms, not unlike some of the photos I’d found in his
studio.

Then he yanked my
seatbelt tight, pulling me back against the seat.

***

Dallon parked in his
stall and cut the engine. Without a word, he climbed out of the car, slinging
his jacket over his shoulder.

Was he serious? Using
my bound hands, I struggled to undo my seat belt and pushed open the door,
clambering after him. He was waiting for me, one hand holding his jacket over
his shoulder, the other shoved in his pocket.

“You look good, Miss
Clair.”

“Are you going to
leave me like this?”

He smirked. “I’m
tempted to leave you that way forever.”

I glanced around the
empty parking lot. “What if someone sees me?”

“I’m counting on it.
That will teach you a lesson, won’t it?” He began walking away, pausing briefly
to look over his shoulder. “Are you coming or staying in here tonight?”

I quickly rushed after
him, panic rising. “Please, Dallon. Undo me. I’m… embarrassed.”

“First of all, you
aren’t addressing me in a very respectful manner. Second of all, after the way
you behaved earlier, you should be embarrassed.”

He pressed the button
for the elevator and then pulled out his phone to check something. Beside him,
I was still glancing around anxiously, while simultaneously using my hair as a
curtain to hide my face from the security cameras.

The elevator pinged
and a young couple stepped out, laughing and talking rapidly. Both of them were
blonde, the woman wearing large hoop earrings and stiletto heeled boots.

I halted mid-step, my
eyes wide, but they continued right past us, completely unaware.

Dallon chuckled as I
rushed into the elevator and scooted halfway behind him, trying to hide my
wrists. “Looks like you’re safe, doesn’t it?”

I didn’t respond. The
elevator doors closed but it didn’t move.

“Push the button,
Amy.”

His tone was cold,
clipped. I was in too much of a rush to argue; I darted forward to push the
number for Dallon’s floor, rushed back to my position.

The elevator began its
smooth climb and stopped at the next floor, the parking level about Dallon’s.
The door opened and an elderly couple stepped on.

I tensed, grasping the
waistband at the back of his pants desperately.

“Good evening,” Dallon
greeted them warmly.

“Good evening,” they
replied.

The woman looked at me
curiously and Dallon put his arm around my shoulder, at the same time draping
his coat over me like one would a cold girlfriend. She gave him a smile as if
to say
you’re so sweet
.

When they got off on
their floor and we were alone again, I leaned into him, pressing my head
against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m sorry.”

Dallon gave me a
reassuring squeeze as the doors opened. Together, we walked to his door and
into the apartment. He stormed straight to the kitchen and poured himself a
glass of wine, gulped it down.

I kicked off my
sandals and joined him, carefully climbing onto the breakfast bar.

“Would you like a
glass of wine?” His eyes were downcast as he refilled his own.

“Yes, please. Sir.”

He poured a second
glass and passed it to me. I took a shaky sip with both hands.

“You infuriate me,
Amy,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry I made you
angry.”

He ran a hand through
his hair. “I should punish you now. But I won’t.”

“Why?”

“Because there is
something more important to deal with—that you still think I will tire of you.”

Yes, that old thing. I
looked away into the dining room, knowing that I should tell him I no longer
thought that, even if I did. But nothing came out.

Dallon drained the
rest of his wine and put his glass down with authority. Then he strode past the
bar, hoisted me off my seat and over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”
I cried out.

In response, he merely
spanked me and kept walking to his bedroom. There, he deposited me in front of
his bed.

“Turn around.”

I turned to face the
bed, and he unzipped my dress, pulled it over my shoulders. The straps couldn’t
pass my bound wrists, so he left my dress hanging in front of me and moved to
my bra, undoing it and leaving it hanging in front of me also.

“Climb up onto the
bed. I’m going to take you from behind.”

I picked up my dress
and bra and got onto the bed, dropping them in front of me. I felt like burying
my face into them and hiding. Dallon climbed up behind me, caressing my back
softly.

“Now, Amy, I’m going
to fuck you. Hard. Afterward we’ll see if I’m still interested.”

I felt him at the
opening to my sex and then he shoved inside me. Grasping my hips tightly, he
began pounding into me relentlessly so that I was forced to lean further
forward onto my elbows to support myself, my face hidden in my dress after all.
He was so deep, his balls hitting my clit with every thrust.

I’d never had sex that
way before, and I was surprised by how much I liked it, by how aroused I was by
Dallon’s anger.

“You’re not allowed to
come. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Suddenly, he grabbed a
fist of my hair and pulled taut, holding me in place.

“Fuck, Amy,” he
groaned and came apart, leaning forward to bite me gently on the shoulder. “You
have no idea what you do to me.”

***

Dallon unfastened his
tie from my wrists, pulled a fresh shirt out of his drawer and tossed it to me.
“Put this on.”

Even after sleeping
with me he was still pissy. I pulled the shirt over my head and when I was
momentarily blind, he grabbed my wrists, wrapping the tie around them again.
“You’re sleeping here tonight.”

“Like this?” My voice
was tiny.

“It will be a good
reminder.”

Placing a hand on the
small of my back, he guided me into the bathroom. I stood uncertainly on the
heated tiles as he picked up my toothbrush, ran it under the tap and loaded it
with toothpaste before handing it to me. We stood side by side, brushing our
teeth and looking at each other in the mirror.

“I got your message,”
I said eventually.

He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh yeah? And what was it?”

“That you aren’t going
to tire of me after one night.”

His eyes narrowed.
“That was only part of the message, but I’ll accept it for now.”

That night I slept on
my side, my arms tucked into my chest, and Dallon slept behind me, his arm
around my waist.

It was one of the best
sleeps I’d ever had.

Dallon awoke me the
next morning with breakfast in bed. With deft fingers, he undid the ties from
my wrists, his eyes burning into mine. Then he sprawled across the bed lazily,
propping himself up on an elbow as he popped a strawberry into his mouth.

“If it were up to me,
I’d keep you in my bed all day, but I figure you have something on the agenda.”
His fingers gently massaged my wrists.

I smiled sweetly as he
let go of my wrists, feeling strangely bereft without the ties or his hands.
“I’m going to accept the job offer, then read for a bit, and then go to my 4
p.m. appointment at the gym.”

Dallon’s face was
impassive, but his cheek twitched. “The training session with the meathead
surfer.”

“You don’t know he’s
stupid,” I said, picking up a strawberry, tilting my head back, and slowly
pulling the end out through my lips. The slight widening of his eyes didn’t go
unnoticed.

“I’ve heard somewhere
that most are. Something about getting hit in the head too often with a
surfboard.”

“You’d never try
surfing?”

“I have, and I’m
pretty good at it. That’s not the point. I can train you.”

I rolled my eyes,
laughing at the same time. “I told you that it doesn’t mean anything. Besides,
you have to work.”

“I told you I don’t
like to share. I can be very possessive of what’s mine.”

“You’re possessive
before it’s yours too,” I muttered under my breath.

Dallon’s eyes narrowed
as he pushed himself into a standing position. “Saturday won’t come soon
enough.”

I tried not to look
nervous as I picked up another strawberry. What had I agreed to? And why had I
agreed to it?

“And just so we’re
clear, Saturday starts at midnight, so if you don’t want your friends to witness
anything they shouldn’t, I’d make it an early night.”

I stabbed at my eggs
as he sauntered out of the room.

***

It was well past 6
p.m. by the time I got showered and rode the subway home from the gym.
Following my session, Todd had recommended me for a complimentary massage,
calling me a trooper. It was definitely needed, as I was aching all over. I’d
warned him that I’d never lifted weights and I hadn’t been lying. Even lifting
my arm to push the elevator button for Dallon’s floor hurt like hell.

“What took you so
long?” he asked as I entered the penthouse.

“Sorry, they gave me a
complimentary massage and I showered and stuff.”

“What happened to your
phone?”

I pulled my uncharged
iPhone from my purse and made an apologetic face. “It died.”

Dallon sighed and ran
a hand through his hair. He was sitting at the breakfast bar, fingering a glass
of wine. He looked gorgeous in his V-neck black T-shirt that matched his hair
and dark eyebrows and the jeans he’d worn in the studio the first night we met.
On the bar in front of him sat some food items on a platter, a few unopened
bottles of wine, and four wine glasses. He’d started setting up for an evening
with my friends, I realized, and hung up my jacket before making my way over
and wrapping my arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” I
whispered into his chest.

His posture softened a
little. “For what?”

“For not responding to
your messages. I know you worry.”

He sighed.

“Are you mad?”

“Not anymore. I’m glad
you’re home.” He pulled back and took my face in his hands, pressed a chaste
kiss to my lips. “But please answer my messages from now on. It doesn’t suffice
to say I worry. For many reasons.”

I nodded and closed my
eyes, breathing in his scent before releasing him.

“How was the gym?”

“Well I won’t be
signing up for another session with Todd, you’ll be glad to know.” I walked
into the kitchen, put my phone in the charger on the counter. “I don’t know if
I’ve ever been this sore.”

The corner of Dallon’s
mouth turned up. “That sounds like a challenge.”

I stuck my tongue out
at him and opened the fridge, pulled out the ground beef I’d moved out of the
freezer the night before.

Dallon grinned. “What
are you making us?”

“Spaghetti. Seeing as
I survive on salads and whatever is lying around, I’m not much of a cook.”

“I like spaghetti. I
saw you stocked my fridge today.”

“I wanted to make you
something for once.” My tone was a little cooler after he’d called it his
fridge.

“I appreciate it. Thank
you.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “And I meant
our
fridge—I
apologize.”

I smiled in thank you
and went about preparing the meal, aware of Dallon’s eyes on me.

“You look good in
our
kitchen.”

I rolled my eyes but
smiled. “Are you buttering me up so I cook more for you?”

“Maybe.” His grin was
infectious.

“I’ve always thought
it would be fun to take a cooking class,” I said as I emptied the beef into the
frying pan. “Or forcing myself learn a new meal every week.”

I didn’t need to
mention that it had been impossible at my old place. The thought reminded me
that sooner than later I was going to have to have the conversation with Dallon
about rent. I had a feeling that he was still going to be difficult about me
paying rent, job or not. I hadn’t yet decided if his need to pay for everything
was due to his need to feel in control or to show that he cared about me.

We ate my spaghetti at
the breakfast bar, my legs in Dallon’s lap, his hand absently rubbing my bare
legs up and down.

“We should have had
them over for dinner,” he said before taking a sip of his wine.

“I didn’t know how
late you would have to work.” I was secretly pleased that he was interested in
meeting my friends. He seemed like such an island sometimes.