Talking Dirty With the Boss: A Talking Dirty Novel (Entangled Indulgence) (16 page)

“What if I changed my mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if I told you I was wrong? That I do like you? That I think you’re funny and loyal and kind. And generous. And interesting. You’re complicated, Marisa. And I like complicated.”

“I’m not complicated. I’m a silly blonde who’s made a mess of her life, nothing more.” She tried to pull away from him but he wouldn’t let her. “Let me go, Luke.”

“What’s it going to take for you to believe me?”

“Nothing. It’s going to take—”

But the words died in her throat as he bent his head and covered her mouth with his. And it was instinct that had her melting against him, the way she always did when he touched her, kissed her. Arching into him. Opening her mouth to his. Because this too was easier. Simpler.

She kissed him hungrily, winding her arms around his neck, waiting for the moment when they’d both ignite and he’d push her down onto the bed and take her hard and fast.

Yet the moment didn’t come.

He held her in his arms, his mouth slow and sure on hers, tasting her, gently exploring her. There was no rush this time, no explosion of desire, though that was there. It was as if he was carefully building a fire. Starting with dry tinder, feeding it with kindling. Stoking the flames.

She shivered, her hands pushing into the thick black silk of his hair, pressing her body against his, trying to incite him. Because she didn’t want slow and careful. Fast and furious was better. Less dangerous. She could lose herself in pure physical pleasure so she didn’t have to feel anything else.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured against her mouth. “Keep still. I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“Keep still and you’ll find out.”

Her heart raced. She wanted to find out and yet another part of her told her that sticking around would be a mistake. That she should be leaving, getting away from him and the complicated mix of emotion he always seemed to generate inside her. “I should…I should be going…”

His hand moved to the neck of her blouse and he began to undo the buttons one by one. “You can leave. But then you won’t see what I want to show you.”

She should make some kind of jokey comment right about now, say something flippant, but she couldn’t think of what. The expression on Luke’s face was absorbed as he finished unbuttoning her blouse, as if it was an important task he was doing.

She wasn’t used to slow with him. She didn’t want slow with him. “Stop, Luke. I’m not sure what you’re trying to do here, but—”

“Marisa.”

The racing of her heart wouldn’t go away. She tried to take a deep breath, get some calm back. “What?”

“Do you trust me?”

The question seemed to come out of nowhere. “I’m not sure…what you mean?”

The look in his eyes made her want to run away and hide for some reason. “Do you trust me?” he repeated.

Her heart continued to race, anxiety twisting in the pit of her stomach. And she couldn’t work out why she was anxious, because he was trustworthy, she knew it. He was the most honest, kindhearted man she’d ever met. But admitting it to him felt like the start of something more. The start of a something she couldn’t bear to contemplate.

She put a hand on his chest. “Tell me what’s going on, Luke.”

He was silent a moment. “I want to show you that you’re not a routine. Or a broken rule. You’re a woman I want touch. To kiss. To hold. You’re important, Marisa. You’re important to me.”

A fine crack appeared in her armor, running all the way through. “Luke, I—”

“Close your eyes. Let me show you.”

She should be running away from him. Protecting herself from him. But she didn’t. Instead she closed her eyes. And felt his mouth on her again, brushing over hers, kissing her throat. Not fast and hard but slow, exploratory. He stroked her bare stomach, up around her rib cage, touching her as though she was something precious. Taking his time.

She trembled a little, her skin sensitized, goose bumps rising everywhere. Luke fast was pretty overwhelming, but Luke slow would be devastating.

You don’t want this again. You don’t want to feel anything for him.

No. She didn’t. But she did nothing while he gently pushed her blouse off her shoulders, his hands skimming lightly up her sides, unhurried. He kissed her throat and the breath went out of her. She leaned into him as she gripped his shoulders. Beneath the fine wool of his jacket his muscles were rigid with tension.

And she knew why.

He was so tidy and anal about changing his clothes. The moment he walked in the door he’d put his briefcase down and go to his bedroom, take off his suit, and hang it up. She’d watched him do it. No matter how badly he wanted her, no matter how impatient he was to get to her, he always changed his clothes. It was one of his routines.

Except for now. And it was clearly bothering him.

Her heart tightened inside her chest, as if there were a large hand squeezing it. She didn’t like that he was bothered. It hurt. “Luke.” She cupped his strong jaw in her hand. “Stop.”

“No. Not again.”

“But don’t you need to change your clothes?”

“I wanted to show you how much more important you are than that.”

The hand squeezed harder. Luke was fighting who he was to prove himself to her.

Oh, you idiot. Weren’t you supposed to NOT fall for him?

Marisa ignored the voice inside her head. “I know, but your routines are part of you. Just like my untidiness is part of me.” She reached for his tie to undo it.

“Marisa, don’t—”

“You don’t have to prove anything,” she said unsteadily, her hands shaking.

Screw space. Screw getting away from him. He’d probably follow her, anyway, so what was the point? Besides, her poor, uptight, gorgeous McNamara needed
her
and she wasn’t going to turn his gesture into nothing by denying him.

She made short work of the tie, pulling it free. Then she turned and draped it over the back of the chair near the dresser. “Does that work?” she asked him.

He nodded curtly. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She began undoing his jacket.

“Marisa…”

She glanced up at him. He seemed so unhappy. So disappointed. Undoing the last button, she rose on her tiptoes and kissed his stern mouth. “Haven’t you ever heard the words ‘it’s the thought that counts’?”

His hand caught suddenly in her hair, holding her close. He was kissing her again with greater hunger. “Marisa…”

Gently she pushed him, smiling. “This will be so much better if you let me finish this.”

“I can do it.”

“No.” And she didn’t realize how much doing this for him meant to her until now. “I want to.”

He released her and let her take off his jacket, watching as she hung it over the back of the chair where his tie was. Then his shirt. His shoes and socks and his trousers. Each item of clothing taken off and hung or folded neatly on the chair. Just how he liked them.

He was down to his boxers, and when she slid her hands into the waistband, ready to pull them down and off him, he growled and pushed her suddenly onto the bed. Then he was on top of her, kissing her with all that familiar desperation.

She threaded her fingers in his hair, pulling him away. “Hey, down boy,” she gasped. “I haven’t finished.”

“Yes, you have.” And he kissed her again, the kiss raw and hungry. There was no tension in him now, his need for the routine satisfied. So she kissed him back, loving the sensation of his bare skin under her hands as she stroked his spine, the weight of his body on hers.

But then he slowed down and stopped, and then it was her turn to be undressed. He did so with all the care and gentleness that she’d used with him, folding each item and laying it on top of the dresser.

And although she wanted him badly by then, she was content to watch him, fascinated by the way he folded the material and smoothed it down, his movements practiced and precise.

Then, when they were finally naked, he turned those same movements onto her. Touching her carefully, gently. Precisely.

She shivered as his hands cupped her breasts, as he took a nipple into his mouth, gentle suction intensifying the sensation. “Luke…” She opened her legs for him in invitation, wanting him. But he’d slowed right down now and although he settled between her thighs, he didn’t take her. Releasing her nipple, he stroked her, her arms, her shoulders, her torso. Shaping her with his hands.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, nuzzling her throat as his hand slid down her stomach. “This was what I wanted to show you, Marisa. That you’re a princess.”

And just like that he crept under her guard, cracking her armor a little more, getting under the hard defenses she’d woven around a heart that had already given far too much to far too many people.

But there was something left for him. Luke who was, underneath his uptight exterior, a secret bad boy and a romantic. Who thought she was a princess.

Not just something left. A lot left. A whole damn ocean.

Her throat closed up and she couldn’t speak. All she could do was put her arms around his neck and hold on tight as his fingers touched, then spread her open for him, as he slid slowly inside her, filling her up.

Then he paused, staring down at her, silver eyes brilliant. “I lied,” he said softly. “When I told you I didn’t have any dreams. I lied.” His arms slipped underneath her, holding her close. “You and the baby are,” he whispered. “You’re my dreams.”

She should have left while she’d had the chance. Should have walked out the door. But she hadn’t and now it was too late.

If she hadn’t fallen for Luke McNamara before, she sure as hell had now, and she knew that if she opened her mouth, all kinds of things were going to come out. Questions about things she didn’t want to know the answer to. Words that once said couldn’t ever be taken back. So she didn’t say anything. Instead she lifted her head and kissed him. Wrapped her legs around his hips and let him take her. Let the pleasure wash over her and carry her away.

Chapter Eleven

Luke held her panting and breathless against him. He didn’t want to let her go. He quite possibly never wanted to let her go. She felt right in his arms. The kind of “right” feeling he got after he’d completed a ritual or managed a compulsion.

“Hey,” she said, pushing at his shoulder. “You’re getting heavy.”

He shifted to get off her but unexpectedly, her hands tightened on his shoulders. “I didn’t say leave.”

Luke shifted again, rolling to one side and propping himself up on one elbow, looking down at her. She was all flushed pink skin, golden hair, and big blue eyes. And his heart clenched inside his chest. Yes, she was a dream. A dream he hadn’t allowed himself because he thought he wouldn’t be able to have something like this.

Yet it was possible with Marisa, wasn’t it? But he’d make sure she didn’t feel anything less than important to him. He would treat her like the princess she was.

“Is that better?” he asked.

She smiled and reached out a hand to touch his face, tracing his mouth with her fingers. “That’s perfect.”

The temptation was too great to resist so he nipped the ends of them, making her laugh.

“Careful, Mr. McNamara,” she murmured. “You’re in danger of becoming playful.”

“I might actually be in danger of asking you out. On a proper date.”

Her smiled deepened. “A date? As in a flowers and dinner and dessert type of date?”

“Yes. Well, I missed out on lunch with you today. I think I deserve a dinner to make up for it.”

She pursed her lips, frowning as if thinking about it. “Hmm. You know I’m going to have to check my schedule. I’ve got several guys lined up, all of whom—”

Luke growled, pulling her in his arms, kissing her hungrily, stopping her words dead. “Make your schedule free for me. Otherwise there will be consequences.”

“Oooh, consequences.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Will they be sexy consequences?”

Flirting. She was flirting with him. And hell, he liked it. “The sexy consequences come after the date. Which means you won’t get any if you don’t go on the date.”

“Sneaky. I like it.” She gave a theatrical sigh. “Well, you leave me no choice then. I suppose I’ll have to come.”

She made him wait for a whole thirty minutes while she got ready. But it was worth it because when she finally came out of the bedroom his heart nearly stopped.

She wore a sheath dress in dark-blue silk that left her shoulders and a good proportion of her legs bare. On her feet she wore a pair of silver sandals with straps that wove around her calves like ballet shoe ribbons. Her hair was loose down her back and her mouth was glossy and red and kissable.

“What do you think?” She gave him a sultry look and did a little twirl.

Luke frowned. “It’s missing something.”

She blinked, surprised. Then glanced down at herself. “What do you mean it’s missing something? I thought I’d go simple tonight.”

Gently he put his hands on her silk-clad hips and pulled her close. “You’re missing a crown, princess.”

Marisa stared at him. “Did you just tease me?”

“I might have.”

Her mouth curved. “Oh, you’re good.”

“I had a good teacher.” He gave in to temptation, bent, and kissed her. “Come on. Let’s go before I decide to have you for dinner instead.”

They went down to the garage underneath the house and he said, “Choose your carriage, your majesty.”

She laughed and, as he knew she would, made a beeline for the Ferrari. Of course. She liked red. And the car had many interesting…memories. It was too showy and not at all suitable for city driving, but what his princess wanted, she got.

This night was special. It was their first formal date and it needed to be perfect.

“I just need to…check the car over,” he said calmly as he unlocked the door. “There were a few mechanical issues last time. It’ll only take a minute or so.”

“Oh sure.” She stood back, waiting.

He tried not to hurry with the checks because he wanted to go out, not waste precious time on stupid checking procedures he knew weren’t necessary anyway.

Nevertheless, he had to do it and try not to look like a crazy man while doing so. The seat belt. The seat. The brakes. The engine. The lights. Everything had to be right. He couldn’t take any chances, not with her. Not with their child. He finished the check but something wasn’t right. Had he checked the brake fluid thoroughly? Had the seat belt been loose?

Anxiety gathered in a small hard knot in his gut. This was Marisa. She was special. If anything happened to her…

He began the check again, making sure to pay attention this time. Do it properly. Another one wouldn’t hurt; that way he could catch any mistakes.

“Luke? What are you doing?”

“Mechanical issues.” He rounded the car again, peering into the engine. Making sure everything was okay. The last service had been thorough, but then again, you couldn’t tell. Perhaps the mechanic had missed something. Sometimes you needed to get inside the engine to see what was going on.

“But…you did that already.”

“I know. I don’t want to take any chances.” He put the hood down and came back to the passenger’s side. Checked the seat belt and the seat.

It all should be fine and yet… He wasn’t fine. The anxiousness was building. What about the airbags? Would they deploy? What if there was something wrong with them? And he had really needed to test the brakes. He’d probably missed something with the engine, too. A once-over visual examination wasn’t going to be enough.

God, what if something happened? If something happened to her because he hadn’t been thorough enough he’d never forgive himself.

He went back around to the driver’s side, starting the ritual again. Properly this time.

“Luke?” Her voice close to him.

“What?” He didn’t turn to look at her because he couldn’t be distracted and miss something vital.

“You’ve done that already. Twice.”

“Yes, I know. But it doesn’t feel right. This has to be perfect.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t feel right?”

The anxiety in his gut twisted even tighter. “It’s nothing. Just…let me do this. Once I’ve finished we can go.”

A pause. “How long till you’ve finished, then?”

“I won’t be long.”

What are you doing? It’ll never feel right, you know this.

His skin was tight, the worry burning inside him like an ember that would never go out. No, it would be right. As soon as he’d done another check they’d go. Of course they would.

Marisa shifted as he got out and he could sense her gaze following him as he went back around to the front of the car and lifted the hood for the third time.

“Luke,” she said softly, and he could hear something pleading in her voice. “Something’s wrong, isn’t there?”

Yes. You’re the one who’s wrong. You’re the one who doesn’t feel right. You’re the one messing it up. Nothing will ever be perfect because you’re the one with the problem.

He clenched his jaw tightly, tension crawling around his neck and shoulders, doubts surfacing, the ones he thought he’d buried after that date with Heather. The same doubts that had assailed him then. He’d wanted that night to be special, too.

Too late. She thought you were crazy. And so will Marisa.

Marisa’s gaze was on him now, watching him. Staring at him as he checked the oil levels again, shame joining the anxiety. Shame and embarrassment.

“Don’t be stupid, Luke. You know you don’t need to do it. Why can’t you stop it?” His mother’s voice, shrill with annoyance. Then his father, trying for patience and failing. “Come on, boy. Listen to your mother. Stop messing about. Doing that all the time isn’t normal.”

He’d tried to stop. Tried to hide it. But bad things happened when he had.

The dipstick swam in his vision. Were the oil levels okay? Or was there a hole somewhere where he couldn’t see and it was all leaking out?

This isn’t normal. You’re not normal.

“Luke, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He was descending into a spiral, the obsessional thoughts nagging away. The back of his neck felt hot. He was going to have to be here for hours, he knew it.

She couldn’t see him like this. He didn’t want her to know. Not ever.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he said in a flat voice. Because it was all so clear to him now. He’d been a fool to imagine that things could be different with her. To think he could have someone in his life. To believe in dreams.

He thought he was in charge of his condition, that he could hide it, that he was the one in control.

But he wasn’t. Following schedules and having rules didn’t matter. The OCD would always be there. He wouldn’t be cured.

He didn’t want her to see this crazy person who spent hours checking a seat belt. Didn’t want her to notice the shame and intense embarrassment written all over his face. Or the guilt he couldn’t escape that he wasn’t trying hard enough to stop the compulsions. The terrible sense that somehow, he was choosing to be this way.

That it was his fault.

Luke looked at her, saw concern darken her eyes, and underneath that, a dawning realization. The same spreading anguish deep inside himself, too.

The realization that there was something deeply wrong. That he’d lied. And that it wouldn’t work between them. Not ever.

“I think,” he said quietly. “That it’s best if you leave.”

…

She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to leave him like that, circling around and around that wretched car, doing God knows what. Checking the same things over and over again.

Because one thing was for sure. Something was wrong. Deeply, deeply wrong.

“Why?” she asked, her voice gone thick. “What’s the matter? What are you doing?”

His hands were gripping the red metal of the car, heedless of the paintwork, his knuckles white. “I lied to you, Marisa,” he said in the same calm tone. “I’m sorry.”

Fear turned over and over inside her. “It’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“I have OCD. You know what that is?”

Fear turned to shock. “Obsessive-compulsive disorder? But isn’t it all about washing hands and germs and things?”

“It can be. Or it can involve obsessive thought processes. Mine tends to involve order. I like to have complete control over my environment, otherwise the checking compulsions can be time-consuming.”

Checking compulsions… Her chest was so tight she couldn’t breathe. “Like what you’re doing now?”

“Yes.”

“But…why?”

“It’s a safety issue.” The look on his face was so bleak she felt tears prick her eyes. “When things are important I have to…check a lot.”

“Oh, Luke...” She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. She’d guessed something was wrong and the explanation certainly cleared up a few things, but it certainly hadn’t been what she was expecting “How long have you been like this?”

“I’ve always been like this.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or did you think I wasn’t important enough to know?”

Pain flickered over his face. “I can’t tell anyone. How do you think my business would survive if everyone thought it was being run by a crazy man? And as for not telling you…” He met her gaze. “You were
too
important to tell.”

A tear overflowed, ran down her cheek. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Everyone in my entire life, except for Caleb and Joseph, thought I was crazy. I couldn’t bear for you to do so, too.”

“But…I don’t think that.”

“You will,” he said with quiet certainty. “If you stay with me, eventually you will.”

Anguish filled her. “Then you don’t know me at all.”

“Seems that’s true for both of us.” Luke looked away, back down to the engine. “Look, this is going to take me hours to finish this. And I’d really rather you weren’t here to see it.”

“So that’s it? You want me to go now? For how long?”

He didn’t look up from the car. “I did tell you the truth about one thing. I don’t want a relationship. So it’s probably better if you go.”

Her heart slowly shriveled in her chest. Well, who was she to argue? What he needed, she clearly couldn’t give him and hell, she wasn’t going to push herself where she wasn’t wanted. He’d lied to her after all, right?

“Okay,” she said thickly. “I guess I’ll see you later then.”

Turning around, she left him alone in the garage and went back upstairs. In her room she methodically finished packing the half-packed suitcase on the bed. Because although he hadn’t said so explicitly, they both knew that he hadn’t meant only leave the room. That he’d meant leave the house, leave his life.

So that’s it? You love him and you’re going to leave him alone like that?

A lump formed in her throat. A lump that refused to go away. Her heart had shriveled up completely, sitting hard and desiccated inside her.

Of course she was going to go. He’d told her to. And besides, she’d seen his embarrassment at what he was doing. She knew he’d hated her seeing him like that. So really, leaving was better for both of them.

Keep telling yourself that. It’s easier than admitting you’re nothing but a damn coward.

Marisa pulled the zip on her case closed. Hard. The lump in her throat choking her. Because of course she was a coward. Leaving Luke went deeper than his lying to her. It was about the fact that she was scared. Afraid of making a mistake. Terrified of screwing up.

He was an incredible man, OCD or not, and he deserved better. Certainly better than anything an ex-beauty queen and failed model could offer him.

More stupid, self-pitying tears prickled the backs of her eyes but she refused to let them fall this time. Instead she straightened, picked her case up. Then turned to give the room a last-minute check to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. There was nothing. It was empty. Whenever he finally managed to leave the garage, he’d get up there to find no trace of her presence. As though she’d never been there.

An impulse grabbed her suddenly. The need to leave something behind. A token of herself.

Putting down her case, Marisa reached up to the catch of her blue bead necklace and undid it.