Out of Bounds (8 page)

His voice was dark and bold. Her knees went weak again as his cock pressed against her belly. She trembled with need so intense, she bit her lip to contain the little telltale sound that wanted to rise from her chest.

“Be in the parking garage at ten to five.”

“No.” It took every bit of self-control she had to deny what she wanted so badly.

He moved so that he was hovering over her lips, but she turned her face. He growled, low and dangerously.

“Why not?”

“Because I am not Anastasia. You don’t tell me where and when to make myself available for your sexual needs.”

“Your needs too, Sabra.” He drew in a deep breath next to her neck before lifting his head and locking gazes with her. “You’re wet and quivering with desire.
For
me
.”

He backed up, running a hand through his hair. “I promised you I’d keep this out of the office. So be in the garage.”

So simple, yet so devoid of emotion too.

Frustration was driving her insane. Her body was a mass of impulses, all of them doing their best to overwhelm her better judgment. She closed her hand into a fist and squeezed until her fingernails bit into her palms.

“Sorry, I don’t do casual sex.” She couldn’t stop the small smile that curved her lips. “Even if the offer is tempting.”

She drew herself up and started to turn her back on him. But he reached out and caught her chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“There will be nothing casual about it.”

There was a dark promise in his voice, one she was sure she was going to hear in her dreams for a really long time. But she shook his hold off and turned her back on him.

“Now who’s trying to control their sexual encounters?” he shot at her back.

She turned and sent him a hard look. “It’s called being wary. You want something completely different than I do.”

He shook his head. “We both want to get naked and fuck. Call me what you will, but you will not label me dishonest. I want to get between your thighs and I’ve got the balls to say it. You had your leg around my hip because you wanted me inside you just as badly as I wanted to be there. You’re the one who can’t call a spade a spade.”

He sat down at his desk, dismissing her.

He had a point. She was trying to mold the attraction between them into something sweeter. The hard fact was, she wanted to jump his bones and didn’t really care about anything else when she was around him.

It was humiliating to want him so badly that she was willing to skip past even a hint of a budding relationship. He’d be lightning to ride—she didn’t doubt it. What she truly questioned was her ability to walk away. It was fun to think of herself as that sophisticated, but the truth was, she doubted her heart was at freezing temperature—or at least cold enough for her to report to work on the same floor with him after he decided she was out of his system.

Tarak’s heart was that cold though.

Which was why she walked out of his office without a backward glance. He was everything she expected of a billion-dollar tycoon. Every action was razor-sharp. The intensity was normal for him, but she was pretty sure it was going to eat her alive.

So she walked away.

***

The day flew by too fast. Funneling her attention into impressing Tarak on a professional level kept her from dwelling on the fact that he had a point.

She was being dishonest.

But she was also her father’s daughter, and her daddy was right—values didn’t go out of style.

It sucked.

Seriously sucked.

The facts were polar opposite to what she felt. It was all churning around inside her. When she left work, going home felt like some sort of surrender. She didn’t want to be predictable. Part of her wanted Tarak to guess where she was, to continue their stalking game, and he wouldn’t be doing that so long as she carried around a work phone with a location chip inside it.

That thought gave her an impulse that had nothing to do with the way her boss turned her on. Sabra made a left turn and headed toward a strip mall. The rush-hour traffic was creeping along as the warm California sun set. She pulled smoothly into a parking place and entered the cell phone store. A fresh-faced kid with glasses greeted her.

Okay, it was just a cell phone, but an hour later she was immensely pleased with her efforts. At least until she realized that she was still just as hung up on her boss.

Total suckage.

***

Anastasia showed up in her dreams.

Sabra watched the blond coming closer while she was paralyzed, seeing the manicured fingernails with amazing clarity. Anastasia raised her fist and brought it down while Sabra lost the battle to contain her cry.

She jerked awake, sitting up.

Her bedroom was dark except for the splinters of light making their way through her closed blinds. The streetlamps outside her window burned all night long. It had been a nuisance when she first moved in, but tonight she enjoyed having just enough light to gain her bearings. Her forehead was wet with perspiration and her heart was thumping hard.

It really pissed her off too.

Anastasia didn’t rate high enough for nightmares.

At least she shouldn’t.

A glance at the clock told her it was three in the morning. With a huff, she turned onto her side and tried to go back to sleep. But she made the mistake of choosing her bruised side and ended up jerking away from her pillow when pain sliced through her.

Maybe it was time to take Celeste up on her offer to teach her some self-defense moves.

***

“Good morning, Ms. Donovan.” Claudia flashed her a bright smile. “I’ll get your morning tea.”

“Thanks.”

It still felt a little awkward to be on the command end of a working relationship, but the moment Sabra sat down at her computer and logged in, she realized she didn’t have time to get a cup of tea. Her inbox was full and her internal messaging system was lit up like a Christmas tree. Life on the sixteenth floor was going to be a hustle. Now that she had a project to manage, she was getting a quick education as to why no one on the lower floors ever saw the VPs. It was because they were all chained to their desks.

The sheer level of work waiting for her attention almost made her feel guilty for how harshly she’d thought about those VPs for ignoring the calls on a Saturday night. It looked as though free time was going to become precious. Very precious.

It also made Tarak’s cut-to-the-bedroom attitude on sex a little easier to understand. Being a successful business tycoon probably didn’t leave a lot of time for long walks on the beach.

But that wasn’t what she wanted from him anyway.

Claudia delivered the tea as Sabra was trying to sort through the internal messages.

“Your morning meetings have changed because Mr. Nektosha has left.”

Sabra looked up instantly. Too fast really, but Claudia didn’t notice; she was on her way out already.

Left?

She bit her lip, trying to tell herself it didn’t bother her. She failed, but at least ended up with the notion that it was for the best.

By the end of the day, she was mentally exhausted from the struggle not to think about it. It was quite possible she’d have spent less energy if she’d just let her disappointment surface.

Someone from accounting turned to stare at her in the parking garage, surprise appearing on her face as she got a good look at the bruise still darkening Sabra’s eye. The woman turned away quickly, but it was enough to remind Sabra of her nightmare.

She dug out the business card Celeste had given her and punched the address into her navigation system. It was a long overdue visit. Martial arts training was the one thing they hadn’t shared.

The martial arts school Celeste taught at was a direct opposite to her stylish friend. Sabra looked at the business card twice to make sure she was at the right place. The strip mall was a decade out of date. Sabra was sure Celeste didn’t have a pair of shoes that was three years old.

The first step inside made her pause. The place smelled like sweat, pure and simple. There was a long seating area with a collection of mothers sitting in groups. Most of them were playing with their cell phones as a group of young students practiced in front of them. Every one of the kids wore a white uniform. They had different colored belts and were quick to snap to attention when the instructor gave them commands. He was using a pair of padded training paddles that popped when he hit them together. A fan was blowing back and forth in the far corner, but the air was still stale.

“May I help you?”

Another man had come out of an office. A tattered black belt was knotted around his waist. His uniform was red, but it was the threadbare condition of his belt that impressed her the most. The guy spent a lot of hours with it on. He was of Asian descent with a warm honey skin tone and black hair.

“Yes, I think I want to try some self-defense classes.”

***

“You’re going to hurt tomorrow.”

Celeste’s uniform was wet in places and her hair slicked back with perspiration. It was the most disheveled Sabra had seen her bombshell buddy in years.

“So will you.”

Celeste sent her a smile that was bright with victory. “It’s a pain I like, and it’s addictive.” She stared at the bruise on the side of Sabra’s face. “You’ll see.”

There was a tone in her voice that made Sabra reach over and hug her. Celeste laughed softly at her.

“I’m fine, Sabra. Better than fine. I’m great, because I’ve chosen to be.”

Sabra gave her friend a hard look. “When is Caspian due out of prison?”

Celeste shrugged but didn’t quite pull off the nonchalant gesture. “He has plenty of friends who could come after me if he wanted vengeance.”

“He’s playing the good boy for the benefit of the parole board.”

Celeste’s expression hardened. “No doubt, but I refuse to think about him. He isn’t worth it.” She clicked her car remote and the taillights flashed on her Corvette. “Why couldn’t you and I be lesbians again? We have so much in common.”

“Because we’re both pathetically strictly dick.” Sabra reminded her.

Celeste shook her head and pulled open the door of her car. She slid behind the wheel of the stylish sports car with a natural grace that should have been illegal after the hours they’d been training.

Sabra collapsed into the driver’s seat of her sedan, grateful to be off her feet. Her butt hurt and so did her legs. Her back felt as if it were going to be on fire in the morning, but she still wasn’t sorry she’d pushed to stay for a second class. Tae kwon do was going to be like everything else in her life—being average wasn’t going to cut it for her. She wanted to be at the top and that meant pushing herself. It meant facing challenges.

Alone in the car, she had no energy left to ignore how much Tarak Nektosha was testing her resolve—or that she’d turned her back on the challenge he presented. Oh sure, she’d done it for all the right reasons—noble reasons, moral ones that didn’t change how frustrated she was with how brief their moments had been. Even with him gone, she felt like she was waiting for his return. It was a dangerous little feeling, one that might grow strong enough to strangle her if she didn’t clip it fast.

Not that she really had to do anything.

The man was gone. Sure, he’d be back, but she doubted he’d be interested in her. Men like him didn’t spend their time trying to rekindle fires that hadn’t given them what they wanted.

***

“Should I fire my chef?” Nartan asked. “Or just save you from yourself by calling that little raven up?”

Angelino’s was full, but the private dining room was empty except for Tarak and Nartan. Even the staff was sealed behind a soundproof, clear door. Nartan got five grand a night for the exclusive table with a balcony view of the Pacific Ocean.

“She works for me,” Tarak growled. “I can call her if I want to.”

Nartan took a sip from a tumbler of whisky. His features tightened as the strong liquor slid across his tongue. “You want to,” he decided. “A little too much, which is why you are sitting here, growling.”

Tarak lifted his middle finger and sent his friend a single-finger salute.

Nartan offered him a toast. “Cussing me out won’t change anything.”

“What does that mean?”

Nartan swirled the whisky around the glass for a long moment. “It means you came to see me because you know I won’t kiss your ass and avoid mentioning the elephant in the room.” He looked up, locking stares with Tarak. A lifetime of events locked them together in a brotherhood that was the closest thing to family either of them had. “Or in this case, the shadow of a little raven in your eyes. You’re thinking about her.”

“I need to stop.” Tarak reached for his own whisky but only curled his fingers around the glass. It wasn’t what he craved. “She works for me.”

“Your unbendable rules getting in the way?”

Tarak nodded. “How many of your waitresses have you banged?”

“None,” Nartan confirmed. “I never said I didn’t agree with you, only that it’s clear you’re thinking about her. Her shadow is following you.”

“We’ve been off the reservation a little too long for that crap.”

“Fine.” Nartan lifted his glass and held it in the air between them. “Toss that double back, call one of those friends with benefits you have, and deal with the heat making you edgy. It’s not like I haven’t seen you do it before.”

“You’ve done the same.”

Nartan nodded curtly. “I’m not the one who’s torn tonight.”

Tarak didn’t respond. He sipped at the whisky until the tumbler was empty. “You’re right.”

Nartan lifted an eyebrow in question.

“I am torn.” Tarak stood up and walked out onto the balcony. The wind blew his hair back, rushing down the open collar of his shirt.

Torn, but he knew without a doubt he didn’t want anyone but Sabra. So he watched the moon rise over the Pacific Ocean, remaining on the balcony by sheer force of will.

The fascination wouldn’t last. Nothing with a woman ever did.

“Have a nice weekend, Ms. Donovan.” Claudia smiled before lifting her purse and heading toward the elevators.

Sabra hesitated in the doorway of her office. Now that it was the end of the week, she felt like she’d passed a milestone. Security hadn’t shown up to escort her downstairs and out the door, and she was almost sure that two of the VPs had decided to like her.

The weekend was almost unwelcome because it was going to interrupt her climb to being a respected member of the team. But she wasn’t going to go so far as to say that she was going to miss her alarm going off in the morning.

She turned the music up as she drove home, singing along with the tune until she turned the corner onto her block. The Aston Martin Vantage was back in her driveway.

A ripple of anticipation traveled along her skin. She didn’t pull into the double garage because keeping him out of her personal space seemed wiser. He was bold enough to walk right in if the door was up. Instead, she pulled into the driveway and stepped out of her car.

She thought she was ready to face him, but her belly twisted with excitement the moment she laid eyes on Tarak. He was on the double-glider seat again, his shirt collar open and the knot of his necktie pulled down several inches. His legs were stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

“If you need to see me, you can call me into your office, Mr. Nektosha.”

She managed to control her tone and sound smooth even though she fell a little short of chilly professionalism.

“If you’re too afraid to be alone with me, Ms. Donovan, by all means, admit it.”

His verbal sparring skills were just as cutthroat as the rest of his abilities. She fingered her keys, realizing that the ball was very much in her court. “Please come in.”

It felt like inviting a vampire into her home. Once the invitation was past her lips, she was going to lose all control of the situation. She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. She turned around and watched Tarak follow her.

He wasn’t the commitment sort of guy, so there was no reason for her to be so melodramatic.

But he paused and looked at the chair in her living room. Heat teased her cheeks as her clit throbbed.

“I told you at the office I wasn’t interested in the sort of relationship you want.” She put her purse down. “Why are you here?”

He shifted his gaze to her, his black eyes narrowing. She stepped back, sharply aware of the current running between them.

“You bought a new cell phone, a private one, which set off a red flag.”

“What I spend my money on is my business.”

Tarak’s lips thinned. He stepped toward her. “Are you making sure I notice you, Sabra? Ensuring your name is brought up?”

She sidestepped to avoid having to tip her head back to maintain eye contact. She didn’t need to be in that position; it was too damned vulnerable. “That’s majorly presumptuous. Maybe I was just following your suggestion to get a private cell phone if I wanted my conversations to be private.”

He was weighing her words, his gaze cutting into hers as he tried to get at her true feelings. “Not presumptuous. I’m reading the signals your body is putting out.”

“You’re changing the topic.”

He shrugged. “I’m adjusting to the circumstances.” He took a long, leisurely look down her length and back up again. “My priorities have shifted.”

She drew in a stiff breath. The way he ripped down a conversation to its base elements was raw and sexy.

“I’m not saying I don’t want to jump you, but I’m making the choice not to be your fuck buddy, even though it has appeal.”

He bared his teeth at her. “I woke up every damned night this week from the sounds of you coming echoing in my dreams. You’re right about one thing—I want to fuck you and I’m not any closer to being able to control it than you are.”

His breath was agitated by the time he finished, but her heart was accelerating to match. He took another step toward her and she lifted her chin as he reached out and stroked her neck.

It was startling, the contact between their bare skin. Her clothing felt too damned tight, and she wanted to grab his shirt and rip it wide open.

He slipped his hand around her head, gripping a handful of her hair as he pulled her against him. “I thought about kissing you all week, kissing every damned, pink part of you.”

He smothered her retort beneath a hard kiss. There was no teasing, only bold conquest. He pressed her lips open and thrust his tongue deeply into her mouth. Her pussy gave a strange little contraction as she pressed up against his erection. The reasons to stay away from him crumbled as her body demanded a full taste of what she craved.

She reached for him, stretching her hand up to hold the back of his head so she could kiss him just as savagely as he was kissing her.

He stepped back, holding her at arm’s length.

“Let’s go,” he ordered.

He grabbed her keys and had the front door open with one rapid motion. He paused and ran a hand through his hair as he drew in a deep, raspy breath.

“Where are we—”

“Where doesn’t matter as much as why.” His expression tightened when he looked back at her. “If we stay here, I’m going to fuck you.”

It sounded like a damned necessity to her raging need. But she worried her lower lip. “Look… I’m not sure it’s a good idea to be together. You drive me a little crazy.”

“You make me insane, Sabra. So step out the door before I close it and get back to letting you rip my clothes off like your eyes were telling me you wanted to do. Believe me, it’s what I want.”

“So why is the door open?”

“Because I don’t want anyone but you. If that were the case, a week would have seen the urge dying off.” He pointed at the door. “So we’ll try it your way—more than just fucking. But if we stay here, you’ll have to wait for the
more
part.”

She wasn’t really sure what he was promising her, only that she could see the strain on his face and hear it in his voice. Hell, she could feel it clawing at her insides. The word
fuck
had never been enticing before, but it was when Tarak used it—frank, blunt, but loaded with the hard promise of satisfaction.

She made it onto the porch, and he closed the door behind them, locking it before dropping the keys into his pocket.

“Control freak.”

The Aston Martin beeped as he hit the remote. “I prefer ‘hands on.’”

She had a feeling she was going to too.

He opened the passenger-side door and her belly did a strange flop.

Point
of
no
return.

Her mouth was dry but her panties were wet, so she climbed in. The scent of leather surrounded her, striking her as masculine, just like the owner. The seat cradled her and she stretched her feet out as the driver-side door opened.

Tarak pulled out of the driveway with a hard motion. He handled the beast of a car with a strength that made her bite her lip again.

She had no idea where they were going and was stunned to realize she was enjoying it. Her pride balked, but excitement was prickling along her skin.

The sun was just a glowing red orb on the horizon line. Tarak threaded his way through traffic, heading for the coast. When he exited the freeway, it was onto a more private road. It wound its way up a hillside to a private resort tucked into the bluffs overlooking the surf. He pressed the accelerator and let the car loose. It hugged the curves, taking her along for a ride that fed her growing excitement level. He had his cuffs rolled back, exposing his muscular forearms. Her attention lingered over the grip he had on the steering wheel—strong, confident, and steady.

He was in complete control. The feeling of so much raw power was almost suffocating, but she found herself on the border, balancing between excitement and feeling cornered.

The intensity was mind blowing.

The road crested, offering her a view of an Italian villa–style resort. The sides of the road were covered with colorful plants that had been expertly manicured.

The chauffeurs fought over who was going to get the keys to the Aston Martin. The faster one opened the door for Tarak, while his defeated buddy opened the passenger-side door for her.

The sea air blew her hair around. She had only a moment before Tarak was beside her, clasping her elbow and guiding her through the huge, double glass doors. The entryway was covered in marble tile with plush seating areas. Huge potted plants added a slice of nature, but it all passed in a blur.

Tarak guided her through the lobby to a set of elevators. The reception desk didn’t gain even a single glance from him. He swiped a key card to open the elevator doors.

“You booked a room already?”

“A suite,” he answered as the doors slid shut. “To be honest, I simply told the staff to expect me.”

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. It was a short walk to the double doors of the suite. Another flash of the key card and Tarak was pushing one side open for her.

The interior wasn’t what she expected. The lobby had been done in muted tones, but the suite was decorated in rich, autumn hues. The floor was covered in clay tile with area rugs woven with Native American patterns. The vases and knickknacks were all Apache too. The main room had huge patio doors that were open to let in the sea breeze and the sound of the surf. A soft flicker danced off the polished surface of the tiles from a dozen candles lit in various places around the room.

Sabra walked toward the open doors. The entire wall of glass was sectioned and pushed back to open up the whole room. A balcony with a railing was the only thing separating her from the beach.

“You own this place,” she remarked as she took another look around the suite. “This is your personal color scheme.”

“It’s far more cost effective than a beach house.” He had his hands shoved into his pockets.

“I’ve never seen you nervous.”

He choked on what might have been a bark of laughter. He pulled his hands loose while shaking his head. “I’m not nervous.”

His tone was irrefutable—solid and every bit as hard as the man himself.

“I’m trying to act like a gentleman,” he clarified. “It’s proving a challenge.”

It was her turn to choke. One of his dark eyebrows rose in response.

“Does that mean you prefer me… as I am?”

He was holding his true nature back. The effort itself was something that sparked a new form of respect for him inside her. It was something undefined, just a feeling of appreciation for the effort he was making.

She’d missed the table when she walked in. It was set with several dishes, steam rising in thin tapers from the sides of several chafing dishes. A bottle of wine was sitting in a polished ice bucket. He reached over, hooked the back of one of the chairs, and pulled it out for her.

That wasn’t what she wanted.

In fact, she was sure sitting through a meal might just snap something inside her mind permanently.

“I like you as you are.” Her tone had gone sultry. She felt more aware of her body than she could ever recall being. Her hips had taken on a life of their own, swaying with every step. She wanted to be feminine and alluring and completely captivating.

He closed the distance between them and she felt him approaching as much as she saw it. There was a raw sense of power radiating from him. It grew to a fevered pitch until he was looming over her and she had to tip her head back to lock gazes with him.

“Put your hands on me, Sabra.” His eyes reflected the flicker of the candle burning on the table. “I’m going to go insane if you don’t finish ripping one of my shirts off me.”

She reached for him, shocked by how quickly her passion ignited. It was as if they’d never separated. Her fingers trembled but she quelled the urge to rush, needing to master the urges churning inside her. It was a desperate sort of need, one that frightened her as much as it challenged.

The first contact was jarring. A jolt of sensation pierced the restraint she’d been cultivating. All the impulses she’d been trying to corral surged forward. She reached for the open collar of his shirt and pulled it wide, popping a single button.

“Too damned slow,” he snarled before taking over the task himself. He yanked on the edges of the shirt, tearing it, and sent the rest of the buttons flying. He shrugged out of the ruined garment and tossed it aside. “I want to be naked with you, Sabra.”

“I know.”

His chest was a feast of masculine brawn, every ridge sculpted and free of fat. She reached out and stroked him, marveling at the satin smoothness of his skin.

And the heat.

He was hot, his skin warming her fingertips and making her clothing feel suffocating.

She began pulling at her own clothing, lost in the surge of need intoxicating her senses. She kicked her shoes off and shucked her suit jacket with a shrug.

That was as far as she got before he pulled her against him.

“I’m going to strip you, Sabra.”

He pressed a hot kiss against her mouth. This time, he held back and licked her lower lip before pressing her mouth open. She shivered, the need to be closer to him, entwined with him, increasing like a hunger. The rest of the world was fading away, the euphoria of the moment all she felt.

She thrust her tongue up to stroke his before he penetrated her mouth. One long, velvet stroke that drew a moan from him. A moment later, he scooped her off her feet and carried her past the table, toward the bedroom. Another section of wall was open in front of the huge bed. The sheets were deep terra-cotta, and he placed her on them like some sort of trophy. He soaked up the sight of her for a moment—one long, drawn-out bubble of time that felt like an eternity.

A moment later, he crawled over her, threading his fingers through hers and pinning her arms to the bed. It was completely controlling but it thrilled her to the bone.

“I chickened out of sending you a note today.” He angled his head and pressed a kiss against the bare skin of her throat. “I was too damned worried you’d run away.”

“I might have,” she admitted. “It’s not as though we’re in a relationship… or even should be.”