Mastered (The Enforcers #1) (19 page)

Evangeline felt like a fairy princess as she surveyed herself in the mirror, critically going over her makeup, how the dress fit, her hair that she'd pulled atop her head and had fashioned loose curls to fall gently down her neck.

Try as she might, she couldn't find fault with her appearance. God only knew she'd spent enough time fussing over every single aspect of it.

Time to face the music. Memories of the last time she'd come into this club still had the power to shame her. Nothing had changed
except
her status as Drake's woman. Did that suddenly make her above average? As the saying went back home, you can put lipstick on a pig, but you still end up with a pig.

Certainly the dress was to die for and cost more than the dress she'd chosen that night, but it wasn't as though Evangeline had tried to walk into the club in a designer knockoff. She tried to look for any discernible difference that made her suddenly more worthy of being at Impulse, but she was at a loss.

But at least she didn't have to worry about being thrown out, getting assaulted or Eddie showing up to ruin the evening. She'd already figured out that Drake hadn't lied when he said he protected what was his.

A light shiver skittered over her body as Maddox's words filtered through her mind. He'd been very serious when he'd told Evangeline that Eddie would never harm her or come within a mile of her. The look in Maddox's eyes had been menacing and she absolutely believed him, but she didn't want to dwell on the
how
he was so certain and to what lengths he'd gone to ensure such confidence when he'd assured her that Eddie would no longer pose a problem for her.

Drake owned a club, but she'd gleaned from words dropped here and there that Drake had multiple business interests. She wasn't altogether certain she
wanted
to know what all he dealt in that he required the security detail he utilized and hired men who looked like they could snap a man's neck with a mere look.

No, she didn't want to know. Some things were better left unsaid, unknown. Maybe that made her a bad person. Unethical. Not to mention stupid and naïve. But all she wanted to focus on was whatever this thing between her and Drake was and seeing where it took them.

He'd been angry. No,
angry
was too harsh a word.
Annoyed
was perhaps a better description when she'd hesitated and appeared to question his authority after agreeing to obey his dictates and submit to him. And yet she'd been
aroused
by the authority so evident in his voice. Did it make her crazy? Had he managed to uncover a part of herself she hadn't known existed—would've likely
never
have known if not for him? She simply couldn't imagine responding to another man the way she'd come to life at his touch. Every single one of his men was incredibly hot in his own unique way, and yet she felt nothing more than appreciation for their sheer masculine beauty.
They
didn't cause her to have extremely erotic fantasies.

Knowing she'd taken far too much time changing and arranging her hair and applying makeup and that Drake was probably annoyed—again—she gave herself one last once-over and smoothed her dress before taking a deep breath and slipping her heels on.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob as she gathered her courage to walk back into Drake's office, praying he approved and would be pleased with her appearance.

Swallowing back a gulp and straightening her spine, thrusting her chin up so she at least gave the impression of poise and confidence, she opened the door and walked as calmly as she could toward Drake. But inside she was a seething mass of nerves.

As soon as the door opened and Drake came into view, his gaze locked on her and fire burned in his eyes. He was silent, but his look said it all. He took in every aspect of her appearance, his gaze making a slow perusal from head to toe that had her cheeks burning every bit as much as his eyes.

“You look magnificent,” he said in a low, husky, sexy-as-hell voice that made all her girly parts tighten and tingle. “My angel has transformed into quite the temptress. I'm tempted to change my plans for you for the evening and keep you here all to myself. I don't like the idea of sharing such an enchantress with anyone. I'd much prefer to have you in my lap so I could lick and taste and touch you the entire night.”

She flushed with pleasure and delight at the sincerity in his voice and the . . . possessiveness. She'd never considered herself a woman who would be attracted to a man so
forbiddingly
possessive, but the idea that he considered her
his
and was
over
possessive of what he now considered
his
called to a part of her previously undiscovered. She liked it. A
lot
. What woman wouldn't like belonging to a man like Drake Donovan and being pampered, spoiled and cherished to such an extreme?

“The dress suits you. It was made for you, and those heels . . . I'm going to fuck you in nothing but those heels later. But babe, no dress, makeup or shoes can make a woman like you
more
beautiful than you already are. You shine, no matter what you have on, and
especially
when you have nothing on at all. There's not a woman who exists who'd look as good as you do in that dress and those heels. It's all you. Don't ever forget that.”

There was no hint of anything but complete conviction in his words and in his expression. And God, the ownership she saw so clearly in his eyes made her knees wobble. The image of him fucking her in just her heels made her clit swell and pulse to the point of discomfort.

This was a man who could have any woman in the world, and yet he'd chosen her. She didn't understand it. Couldn't even fathom it. But at the moment she was caught up in a fairy tale and had no desire to question the fact that this gorgeous man thought she was beautiful and that he wanted
her
. Not another woman. Her. Evangeline Hawthorn. Just an ordinary girl. Nothing special about her and yet he made her feel wanted
and
special.

She closed the distance between them and leaned down so their lips hovered a mere breath away.

“I'm glad you approve,” she whispered.

And then she kissed him, uncaring of the fact that she'd have to reapply her lip gloss. Right now she
had
to kiss him. Had to show him what his words had meant to her.

She fed hungrily at his mouth, sucking at the tip of his tongue when his lips parted and then delving deeper so she could taste him, consume him.

A low growl rumbled from his throat, vibrating over her tongue, sending shivers dancing down her spine.

She slowly drew away, and he frowned as if he was in no way finished with her yet, but she wanted to drown in his gaze again and bask in the desire and approval in his dark eyes.

“
Approve
is hardly an apt description, Angel. I'm not sure whether you're an angel or a demon in an angel's guise. I've never been so affected by a mere kiss.”

“Me either,” she whispered.

He smiled then. “Tell me, Angel. Just how many men have you kissed?”

She flushed and looked away in embarrassment. He cupped her jaw and gently guided her gaze back to his.

“I didn't ask to shame you. I'm hoping to hell that you're going to tell me that you've only kissed one other man, because he sure as hell doesn't count, which would make me the first. The first that
means
anything. Because the thought of that pleases me a hell of a lot and I don't give a damn about your inexperience. I want to be the man to teach you pleasure and eroticism. I want, in time, for you to forget all about Eddie Ryker and believe that I was your first in all aspects of lovemaking.”

Her heart did funny things, momentarily robbing her of breath. Then she smiled, not knowing how devastating that smile was on the male population.

“Eddie who?” she asked lightly.

He growled and became the aggressor, kissing her until she was panting for breath.

“Now
that
is what I want to hear,” he said as he stroked his thumb over her swollen mouth.

“And for the record, Drake, you
were
the first,” she said softly. “What Eddie did could hardly constitute anything but a quick lay where he took his pleasure and gave me none. You are the only man to have ever given that to me.”

He looked extremely satisfied with her response. He loosened his hold on her and allowed her to step back, his gaze still drifting appreciatively over her body, giving her a decadent thrill. He really did like what he saw. There was no faking his response to her and it was such a heady sensation. Like she was having the most wonderful dream, one she never wanted to awaken from.

“Go and get comfortable,” he said. “The food will be up shortly and then afterward I'll have two of my men escort you down. I want you to enjoy your night as you should have the first time you came to my club.”

She turned quickly before he could see the dismay on her face. She remembered all too well the reactions of the other patrons. Just because she was Drake's woman now didn't change who and what she was, and she would still be judged and deemed unworthy, no matter how
Drake
saw her.

“Evangeline.”

His voice halted her just as she was about to sink into one of the comfortable-looking armchairs that sat at an angle to his desk. She turned, her expression inquiring.

“It will be okay,” he said softly.

She briefly closed her eyes, determined not to ruin her makeup by allowing herself to get upset over that night all over again.

“You have no idea how horrible that night was for me, Drake.
Before
Eddie even made his appearance.”

Drake's eyes narrowed. “Explain what you mean.”

She sighed, wishing she'd just kept her thoughts to herself, and she damned her compulsion to blurt out the truth no matter how awkward or embarrassing. Nobody wanted to hear her train of thought, and yet she forever just vomited out the unvarnished truth.

“Evangeline?” he prompted.

Damn it, but he wasn't going to drop it. She was already acquainted with the particular tone he'd just used when saying only one word. Her name. It wasn't a request. It was an order and one she felt compelled to obey, despite her overt discomfort over rehashing the events of that night.

She let out another resigned sigh and reached deep within for strength and composure.

“As soon as I stepped out of the cab, people were judging me. The people in line. Even the damn bouncer dude, or whatever his title is. The guy who mans the door and either lets people in or tells them to get in line. But he didn't even tell me to get in line. He told me to leave. And
every single person in that long-ass line was smirking and looking at me like I was a moron for even trying to get into a place like Impulse. Then when I showed the guy who told me to leave my VIP pass, he looked like he'd just swallowed a lemon, and the people in line weren't subtle about their outrage that someone like me was being allowed in while they were standing on the sidewalk waiting. They looked at me like I was some sort of bug. Others just outright laughed.”

She paused to take a break, surprised at the anger that still simmered over that whole humiliating experience.

“Once I got inside, it wasn't any better. Everyone was staring at me like I was some alien who'd arrived in a UFO. They were smug, amused, snotty, and I felt like I was under a microscope. The only person who was nice to me was the bartender.
He
was sweet. And
nice
. He treated me like a normal person, like I was every bit as good and welcome as the others, while the rest of the people in the front bar treated me like I'd crashed a party I wasn't invited to. It was horrible. I'd already decided to just leave. I was stupid for allowing my girlfriends to talk me into ever going, but then Eddie made his appearance with a woman Velcroed to his side whose look very clearly told me,
I'm prettier than you, classier than you, better than you and I can satisfy my man, unlike you, who were a disaster in bed
. And my stupid pride wouldn't allow me to walk out because I didn't want him to think I was ashamed or embarrassed to run into him. So I stood there, hoping he wouldn't notice me. No such luck,” she muttered.

“There is no possible way for a man
not
to notice you, Angel. Unless he's dead,” Drake said dryly. “You sell yourself far too short, but I'm going to work on that.”

She shuddered and continued on as if he hadn't spoken. “It was horrible. The entire night was just . . .
horrible
. And now I'm supposed to walk out there and endure it all over again? Pretend that night didn't happen and everyone around me isn't judging me, laughing at me and wondering how I even got past the gatekeeper in the first place?”

If she hadn't been so raw from reliving that night all over again, the look on Drake's face would have terrified her. He was coldly furious, his eyes flat and his jaw clenched so tight that it had to be painful.