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Breaking in a new pair of stockings qualified as one of Kyra's less favorite things. She stood in front of her wood-paneled locker at the club and smoothed her hands up her calf to her knee, straightening the seam up the back of her leg. With her right foot balanced on the bench, she pushed the hem of her skirt high on her thighs and slipped her thumb under the elastic band at the top.

“If I had known you were wearing those last night, I would have stripped them off you with my teeth.”

At the sound of Bast's voice, she spun around and shoved her skirt down at the same time. “What are you doing back here?”

“I believe you said the next move was mine.”

The words turned her body into a trembling mess. Her temperature spiked even as a tremor shook her. Every nerve ending sparked to life right when she needed to concentrate on getting through a shift.

With her already running a few minutes late, his timing needed work, but then again, she suspected this was a calculated move. One to make sure she knew who was in charge. “Now?”

“Belonging to me means all the time. On my schedule. In any way I want.”

It was a good thing she had both feet on the floor because the room bobbled a bit. If he hoped to shake her up or scare her, he failed. His comment started a revving deep inside her that she longed to satisfy.

Gathering her control, she peeked around the corner into the next locker bay. Running late meant she was alone or had been until five seconds ago. “Becca will strangle you if she finds you in here.”

Bast pushed off from the door and walked toward her. “Becca and I have come to an understanding.”

“About?”

“Her place in my sex life.” Bast stopped right in front of Kyra. Didn't reach out or touch but stood there with his presence filling every open inch of the room. “For the record, she does not have one.”

The man talked in sentences she couldn't always decipher. This time she thought she knew. “And you had some sort of discussion with her that made that clear?”

“I'll explain later.”

But he wasn't the only intelligent one in the room. She didn't claim his killer IQ, but street smarts had helped her survive this far. “I'm guessing she saw us on the security cameras and confronted you.”

His head pushed back. “You knew she could see us?”

“I forgot about the added layers of protection until after.” Kyra put a hand on his arm and let her fingers rest against the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. She guessed the gesture looked loving but she'd really planted her body there in case he bolted after her admission. “What exactly did she say to you? No threats, I hope.”

“I can handle her.”

Kyra assumed that meant threats. “Tell me.”

“The usual ‘I'll spill your blood and hide the body' stuff.” Instead of running, he slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her in tight against him.

This close Kyra could see the bright green of his eyes and smell the soap on his skin. “Are you upset?”

“About?”

“Becca knowing.”

One of his hands slid over Kyra's skirt to cup her ass. “I'd rather talk about your choice of undergarments.”

She was two seconds from stripping them off. “Someone could walk in.”

“I'm a problem solver, so let me fix that issue before it consumes you.”

The second he backed away, a rush of air hit her skin and punched her lungs. She didn't know she'd been holding her breath until she ended up with empty arms. She wanted to call him back but the sound of squeaky wheels broke her concentration.

As she watched, he rolled over the towel cart and tucked the metal edge under the door handle. Also did a quick look around the shower area in the back.

“Yeah, jamming the door won't bring attention to you being in here. Not suspect at all.” But the man was on a mission and since getting to her seemed to be the end goal she did not argue. If he wanted to take the risk, she would stand right by his side . . . or wrap her body around his and ride it out.

His gaze zipped back to hers. “Want me to leave?”

“No.”

“Good.” He took off his black jacket and draped it over one of the benches. “Then stop talking.”

The man still had the tie and shirt on, every inch of skin stayed covered, but being one layer closer made her breath hitch. She'd probably have a heart attack when he finally stripped down to nothing.

“This is how it will be between us.” His hands came around her and settled on her lower back with his mouth dancing around the edges of hers.

“With you in charge?”

“You won't be able to hide from me,” he whispered between delicate kisses.

“And you want secrecy.” Her fingernails dug into his crisp white shirt until she hit the muscles of his forearms.

“Compliance and discretion, yes.”

“I'm not balking at those terms.”

His lips went to her neck, lightly grazing until every nerve ending inside her tingled. She tried to pull him in and bring his mouth back to hers but he seduced her with firm hands and soft caresses.

“But you're still talking.” His hot mouth moved behind her ear. “I would rather have your mouth on mine.”

She started to agree but he shifted and his lips covered hers. This kiss rivaled then surpassed the one from last night. Hot and deep, flaming through her and driving out every other thought. With his hands on her ass, he pulled her lower body tight against him as his mouth branded her.

Her balance teetered and her skin heated. Through the waves of aching need pummeling her, she held on, gripping his broad shoulders as she balanced on tiptoes. The kiss continued with his head moving from side to side and no inch of her mouth going untasted.

But he didn't stop there. Her skirt slid up the back of her legs and she broke off the kiss. Safe in the circle of his arms, she stared at his flushed face. Ran a fingertip over that sexy mouth.

He walked his fingers down the back of her thighs as he slipped to the bench and sat down almost beneath her. “Are you wearing underwear, Kyra?”

“Yes.” She didn't recognize the breathy sound as her voice.

Brushing his hands up this time, he lifted her slim skirt. Clothing rustled as the material slid against her stockings. He bunched the hem in his fist and gathered the bulk near her waist. The move left her lower body open to his gaze and his appreciation of her body on full display.

He smiled as he ran the fingertips of his free hand over the front of her black bikini bottoms. “Pretty.”

“I thought of you when I picked them out tonight.” Which was the truth. She'd hit the end of the week and the choices came down to practical or sexy. Picturing him, she went with the black and planned on spending a little time this evening imagining him peeling them down her legs.

“Take them off.”

She shook her head, sure she missed something. “What?”

His thumb slipped to her entrance and danced across the thin material. “I think you heard me.”

She struggled to catch her breath. To hold on to a thought for more than a second. “I'm working.”

“And I want to sit out there in my booth knowing you're walking around bare.”

“Bast, you can't mean . . .”

“You won't wear anything when you stay at my house.”

She planned on holding him to that promise . . . just not here. “That's in private.”

“I've made myself clear.”

With any other man she'd think this amounted to a test to check her resolve. Not Bast. He touched her and watched her and meant every word. He was letting her know his expectations and leaving it to her to figure out if she could handle them.

Well, she had something to prove as well. “You do it.”

He glanced up at her and shot her the kind of smile that made a woman feel wanted and powerful.

“That's a very good start.” His palm slipped up high on her thigh and his fingers eased under the edge of the elastic. With a tug, he had the material over her ass and caught in the wedge between her legs.

As the silk rolled down, her vision blurred. She tried to say something—anything—and the words caught in her throat.

“Open up.” He leaned in and placed a sweet kiss on the slim line of hair that covered her. “I can smell you.”

Her heart pounded hard enough to muffle the sound of his voice in her ears. Yet somehow she obeyed. Shaky and on the verge of falling into his lap, she moved one foot to the side.

The material slipped down but she barely felt it. Once he pressed a palm to her, she had to use all her energy to stay on her feet. Brushing back and forth, he caught her skin on fire. Her hips lifted forward as if begging his fingers to plunge inside.

He glanced up again. “Do you need to come before you go out on the floor?”

The words slammed into her. She knew he would be like this, sexy and open, bawdy and so damn hot her brain would fry. Saying no to him, holding any sort of line, was going to be so hard when all she wanted to do was surrender.

But a room full of obnoxious men sat not far away and she had to be careful. “I can't—”

“I'm pretty sure you can.” One of his fingers, long and lean, slipped inside her. “You feel like you need to come.”

Her hips rocked in time with the gentle back and forth inside her. “I'm already running late.”

“You're wet.” His other hand rubbed her against her ass, pulling her forward. “Can you work in this state? Right on the edge.”

Before she could say anything, his tongue swept over her. The combination of mouth and fingers took her mind to another place. She forgot about the mumble of the crowd and Becca's wrath. The club, her shift, none of it mattered in that second. Not when he licked her, dipping his tongue in deeper and blazing a trail through her wetness.

“Ah, so that's what you need.” He took off his glasses and put them on the bench beside him as the whispered words rumbled against her clit.

Her head dropped forward and her hands slid into his hair. One knee gave way as her bones turned to mush. If he hadn't been touching her, holding her, she might have melted into a puddle at his feet. Instead, she felt him turn her. Without any help from her, he raised her leg and moved until she straddled the bench and his legs.

The new position left her totally open to him and he took advantage. His mouth worked on her as his fingers held her open. His tongue rotated around her clit and she grabbed onto his shoulders to keep from ending up on the floor.

The friction of fingertips and sleek tongue had her hips bucking and her breath hiccupping in her chest. She wanted him to plunge in deeper, to ride him. To feel him inside her. But he kept rubbing her sensitive flesh until her body tightened around his fingers. The constant torment had waves of heat crashing over her and her body moving without any direction from her head.

She tried to beg for more but the last of her air rushed out of her. Those inner muscles clenched and her blood pulsed. The orgasm hit her as she balanced her weight against him. She wanted to sit down, hold him—something—but he didn't let her. He kept her on her feet with his fingers planted inside her.

After what felt like an hour, the sensations eased and her eyes opened again. She still stood in the middle of the locker room . . . with her panties on the floor.

She looked down in time to see him move his hand. Her wetness glistened on his fingers. She almost lost it when he touched the tip to his lips.

“Very nice.” The corner of his mouth lifted as he looked up at her. “Feel better now? If so, you should tell me so I know for next time.”

And to think he worried about being older. This man would be able to keep up with her just fine.

“Yes, thank you.”

“So polite.” He chuckled as he stood up. After smoothing down her skirt, he kept his hands on her hips, holding her steady. “And thank you, but next time you'll scream my name.”

Her nerve endings jumped as if begging for more and the room smelled like sex. The bulge in Bast's dress pants didn't leave a lot to the imagination either.

She nodded in the general direction of his pants. “Do you want me to take care of you?”

“Not this time.” He reached for his glasses and put them back on.

She glanced again at the tiny scrap of black material by her foot. Thought about the hours ahead of her and how hard it would be to push the memory of this moment out of her head during that time. “What if the other club members can tell I'm naked under the skirt?”

He walked over to the sink and washed his hands and made a scene of drying them. When he turned around, he held a tissue for her. “Only I'll know.”

That sounded like wishful thinking to her. And
she
would know, which could mess up her concentration. Some idiot could end up with ice in his drink by accident and then the world would end because these guys insisted on perfect service. Always.

Not that she regretted any second or the smug look of satisfaction on Bast's face. She put that there and she would keep it there.

She took the tissue and balled it in her fist. “Does this mean you're really taking me up on my offer?”

“What do you think?” He put his hands in his pockets, which only highlighted his impressive erection.

Rather than evade, she stared at it, letting him know she intended to be as active as him during the sex. “You want me.”

“That's no secret.”

The attention proved intoxicating. Having him focus on her turned out to be an even bigger rush than she expected, but she had to know he understood her terms. “You get that I insist on being your only?”

“I heard your requirements.”

She wasn't totally convinced they'd agreed on anything but she refused to ruin the moment figuring out his verbal gymnastics. “Is that what you came to tell me tonight? That we're on.”