The VIP Room (49 page)

He pulls out my chair for me and pushes it in after me. A perfect gentleman on the outside. Inside, I haven't got a clue, but there's no reason why it needs to concern me.

I slide my fingers over the menu but pay no real attention to its details. Blake is the kind of guy who likes to be in charge of dinner. He'll order for me, right down to my drinks and dessert. If we're staying for dessert.

I take a long sip of my water, avoiding his gaze. It's penetrating again. I stare at the clean, white tablecloth as long as I can. When I can't stand it any longer, I make eye contact. The same penetrating look is on his face.

"Kat."

"Yes?"

"This only works if we're honest with each other."

"Okay. I'm tired. I'm starving. I want to go home and see my sister, but according to her texts, she's going out with her best friend. God knows where they're going or if they have fake IDs."

He nods like he understands. His eyes pass over me, his expression softening.

"You like me all cleaned up?" I ask.

"It doesn't matter what I like."

"But do you like it?"

"Yes."

There's this weight in my chest. It shouldn't matter, but I still feel heavy all over.

"I liked you before, too." He reaches across the table, offering his hand. "Look at me, Kat."

"I'm looking at you."

"Like you're infatuated with me."

I draw a circle on his palms with my fingertips. Make my eyes are big as they'll get. Part my lips like I'm desperate to kiss him. "Like that?"

"We'll have to practice."

I slide back into my chair, pulling my arms to my sides. Gaga couples can't be gaga all the time. They get into fights. Isn't the passion the whole appeal of a passionate love affair? Passion isn't just long, desperate kisses and bodies thrashing together in ecstasy. It's screaming and fighting and slapping too.

"Kat."

"What?" I snap. I blame hunger.

"Have you ever loved anyone?"

"No. And no one has ever loved me. If that was your next question." I dig my nails into my now totally smooth thighs. "If you're so good at pretending, look at me like you're in love with me."

He nods. He slides out of his seat and kneels next to me. Several heads turn. He
is
in the perfect position to propose. He lifts himself up, so he's a few inches from me. His eyes get wide, soft. His lips curl into the smallest of smiles.

Warmth spreads through my body. It's not like before. It's not a coursing, desperate heat. It's in my chest, not between my legs. Blake takes my hand and rubs the pad of his thumb against the skin between my thumb and forefinger. I look away, and he reaches for me. His fingertips graze my cheek, light as a feather. It's warm there, too.

Dizzy. I'm dizzy. It's bright in here. Loud. But, somehow, I can't hear or see anything except him. I can't help but stare into his eyes. That look is pure affection. It's love. Hell, I almost believe it. No, not almost.

I do believe it. That warmth swims to my stomach and cheeks. Breath escapes my body. It's all pretend. An example. But I can't stop the feeling. No one has ever looked at me like this. I want so badly for it to be real. I never wanted anything like this before, but now it's the only thing that matters.

He leans closer. Closer. His lips are an inch from mine. It's not like before. That was passionate, yes, but it was carnal. Nothing but sex. This is sweet, innocent even. His hands slide through my hair, and for a second, I forget my whole appearance is different. My eyes flutter closed and I do forget. I forget everything except the feeling of Blake's lips. Soft. Sweet. Hint of lemon from the water.

He pulls back and brings his mouth to my ear. "It's pretend, Kat. It's all pretend."

I nod like I believe him. "I know."

"Can you do that?"

I nod like I believe in my ability to lie.

He shifts back to his seat. His eyes stay glued to mine. "Good."

"What?"

"The way you're looking at me. I believe you."

"Oh, yeah, of course." I press my palms against the chiffon, but the fabric does nothing to absorb the sweat. We nearly had sex in a dressing room. I shouldn't be nervous over a kiss and a few sweet glances.

The server arrives with a
good evening
. Just as I predicted, Blake orders for us. I let my attention shift away, off to some place where it won't hurt me. My only job is to look at Blake like I'm in love. I can absolutely do that without falling in love. Absolutely.

T
he limo ride
is slow and not at all fun. Blake quizzes me on the biographical details of his life and forces me to quiz him on mine. He's utterly unblinking about it. Everything is a fact, plain and simple. His father died when Blake was fourteen, he went to Columbia at sixteen on a scholarship he didn't need, graduated at nineteen. His company was up and running by the time he could drink legally in New York State.

It's like reading a Wikipedia entry. No tone, no opinions, nothing. Even when he tells me about his hobbies, it's like they're a list on a dating website. He plays chess, loves seafood and Sci-Fi, spends all his time working at the office or at the gym. Stress relief, he claims, but I'm harboring a serious suspicion that he likes the attention his perfect body gets him.

Finally, we arrive at his apartment building. No help from Jordan this time. Or the doorman of the building for that matter. No, Blake is the perfect gentleman on the outside.

He lives across the street from Central Park. Right across the street. Penthouse apartment, at least four or five times larger than the place I share with Lizzy. It's amazing. Sleek and modern, just like his office.

Hardwood floors. Black leather couch, stainless steel appliances, thick oak table, floor-to-ceiling windows.

There's a balcony. An enormous balcony overlooking the park. I move towards it without thinking.

"Careful," he says. "It's cold out."

Somehow, Blake beats me to the sliding door. He pulls it open and, sure enough, cold air rushes inside. The wind is strong. My dress blows up my legs. Exactly what chiffon is built to do.

Blake hits a switch and a heating lamp turns on. It flares bright orange. I press my palms into the concrete railing and peer over the edge.

That's a long way down.

My knees wobble, but hands are on me instantly. Blake. He pulls me away from the edge, holding my body tightly against his.

"Careful." His voice is stern.

"Girl overboard. That would raise your insurance. And the whole death could be an accident or suicide or homicide thing." I take another look around the swanky pad. It would be absolutely perfect on an episode of
Law and Order
. The rich guy who always gets what he wants. The pretty young woman found dead in a cocktail dress and heels. A wisecrack about an unfortunate ending to a party. Hell, it writes itself.

His hands dig into my sides. "I'd hate to lose you."

"Cause I'm useful, right?"

His hands slide down my hips, all the way to the hem of my dress. "Because I'd hate to lose you." His fingers skim the outside of my thigh. "You can admit you're nervous."

"I'm just kidding."

He drags his fingers up my thigh, until they reach the outside of my panties. "You're scared."

My eyes close. The wind rushes around me, blowing my hair and dress all over the place. Scared. Never. Not if I keep the end goal of this in mind. A year as Blake's ruse then my little sister is set for life.

Then I'm set for life.

Not like I'd be scared of something as ridiculous as him breaking my heart.

Blake's lips hover over my neck. Warm breath sends a shiver through my skin. He tugs at the straps of my thong then lets go. It flicks back against my skin. A tiny hint of pain.

Tonight. It's tonight. He promised sex tonight. That heat passes through me again. We're close.

"I don't want to hurt you," he says.

My chest tightens. I do my best to steel myself. It's all a lie, except when we're alone together. In bed together, though I doubt Blake thinks of it in such cute terms. Not the kind of guy who makes love or has sex even. I'm sure, with Blake, it's fucking. No feelings necessary.

"I'm not. I'm fine," I say.

He bites my neck. "Have you ever heard of a safe word?"

"Do we really need that?"

He brings his lips to my ear and exhales lightly. "You've never done this before."

What's his point?

He sucks on my earlobe. "I'm going to make you feel so much--pain and pleasure--that you're going to want to scream
no, I can't take any more
."

"I won't."

He bites my ear. It's soft at first. Want rushes to my sex. Suddenly, the balcony feels warm. Hot even. I'm desperate for him to rip off this dress.

He sinks his teeth harder. A bit of pain, but that feels amazing. Then harder. Harder. Until it hurts so much it doesn't feel good anymore.

"Ow." I step away. "Nice demonstration." I stop myself from rolling my eyes. But he's behind me. He can't see anyway.

I roll away.

"Don't do that." His voice is rough.

There's no way he saw me. "Do what?"

"I appreciate your sense of humor, but this is serious." He grabs my hips and holds me against him. "You need a word and it can't be no or stop or anything like that."

"I don't need anything."

"It's not negotiable."

Okay. Fine. I'll indulge his whims. It's not like I'm willing to leave without going to bed, making love, fucking, whatever he wants to call it. "How the hell am I supposed to pick a safe word?"

"How about
chess
?"

"Because it's the only thing you do besides work?" I ask.

"Because it's easy to remember and hard to confuse." His fingertips graze my neck. "Do you have another word in mind?"

"No, I guess
chess
is fine."

"Good." He drags his hands over my back. His fingers close around my zipper and he pulls it down slowly.

Air hits my skin. I know it's cold, but the feeling doesn't stick. I'm still hot as all hell. The zipper reaches my ass. Blake traces the line it took with his fingertips. His fingers work their way up my back, stopping only when they meet the base of my neck. He drags the strap of my dress off my shoulder. The right. He unhooks my bra and does the same with it. My breast is exposed to the cold air and anyone with a view of a penthouse balcony.

Probably not an issue.

Blake sinks his teeth into my neck. Hard enough it hurts. But there's something wonderful about the hurt. Something satisfying. He slides his hand over my chest, cupping my breast and rubbing his thumb against my nipple.

I'm hot everywhere. I lick my lips without meaning to. Tilt my head so my neck is pressed against his mouth. He bites harder. Pain buzzes around my body. There's something so damn nice about it. I don't understand at all. How can something hurt and feel good at the same time?

Blake tugs the other side of my dress off my shoulders. Then the bra. It hits the floor in front of us. The dress spills all the way to my waist and catches on my hips.

Waist up, I'm naked. Naked and exposed on the balcony for anyone to see. That flutter wakes up inside me. There's something about being so exposed and vulnerable and utterly at his mercy.

I shake my head, willing it away. He was right. It's too much feeling all at once. But he was right about the other part. I don't want him to stop.

He shifts back and pulls my dress over my head. I lift my arms to help him. When I open my eyes, the dress is a heap on the floor.

Blake lets out a low grunt. Pure desire. His hands find the edges of my panties, and he pulls them to my knees.

I step out of them. Somehow, I stay upright. No tripping in these heels. Good to know they're sturdy enough for this.

"You went through a lot today," he says.

I nod my agreement.

"I'm in charge now, Kat. All you need to do is feel."

My sex tightens. My stomach feels empty. My chest, too. I can handle doing. Being in charge too. But feeling is much harder.

It's on my tongue.
Chess
. It sounds stupid. I can't say that, and I certainly can't admit that I'm too scared to even try.

"You say that like it's easy," I say.

"You want to leave?" he asks.

"No."

"You want me to fuck you."

God, yes. Inhale. "Yes."

"Do you want this?" He sinks his fingers into my hips. "Do you want me in control?"

I consider the question like my life depends on it. My heart is racing. My breath is catching in my throat. My entire body is humming with the most desperate desire I've ever felt. I want him, absolutely. No doubt about that. I want him any way he wants me.

"Yes." The only question, really, is if I can handle it.

He raises his voice. "Do you want me, Kat?"

"Yes."

"How?"

My mind goes blank. This is not my forte. "In your bed." I shift my back, so my ass is pressed against his crotch. He's hard again. Because of me. "Inside of me."

He nips at my ear. "I want to fuck you until you scream."

I nod.

"Until you come so many times you lose track."

All breath leaves my body.

"Until you come so many times it hurts."

He turns me around so we're face to face. His cock presses against my sex. Those stupid slacks are in the way again. The things are pure evil.

"Is that what you want?" He stares into my eyes.

I swallow hard. "I want you. The rest of it, I've got no fucking clue."

He deems my answer acceptable. "Come with me."

I follow him inside. He closes the door behind us, stopping to stare at me. He takes me in like I'm a painting hanging in a museum. He studies every inch of my body with wide-eyed appreciation.

His gaze meets mine. "Are you on birth control?"

"No," I say. "I don't date."

"I'll make you an appointment."

"I can handle it."

"I insist."

"I can take care of myself," I say. "And I don't need your doctor spying on me." My body curses my brain's objections. It would be easier to hold my tongue and release to the rest of the evening. The day was long. I have barely any fight left in me.

"No spying." He takes my hand. "I'll leave you her card. If you'd rather find your own doctor, do that."

"Okay."

"I'm clean. I'll send you the test results if you'd like."

"Okay."

He leads me into a bedroom. Not his from the looks of it. Everything is a little too clean, too warm, too feminine. The bed is dressed in grey cotton sheets. There's a soft chiffon curtain over the window. It's the same pale pink as my dress, the one out on the balcony.

Blake opens the drawer. "But, for tonight. We use this." He pulls out a condom. "Understand?"

"I'm not an idiot. I know what a condom is."

"Have you used one?"

My cheeks flush. "No."

"Sit on the bed."

I hesitate. My head thinks up all sorts of objections, but my body cuts through all of them.

His voice gets low. Rough. "Now."

I plant my ass on the bed. It's firm. One of those expensive foam mattresses. Palms flat behind me, I lean back. Blake's eyebrows raise ever so slightly. His gaze passes over me again.

"You are gorgeous." He reaches into the dresser and pulls out something black. "I've been thinking about getting inside you since the day we met."

"Really?"

"Desperately." He shuts the door behind us. Then the dresser drawer. "Lie down, arms above your head."

He moves towards me. The expression in his eyes commands me. I don't want to know the consequences for ignoring his request.

I shift onto my back.

"Hands by the headboard," he says.

I shift so I'm in position. It's quite the headboard. Perfect for sex, really. I can't imagine any other use.

I feel his weight first. His knees planted outside my thighs. His crotch against mine. He reaches for my hands and ties a length of black rope around them. Then he ties the rope to the railing of the headboard.

He tests the strength of the knot, tugging at it gently. His eyes find mine. "Okay?"

I nod.

"What's the safe word?"

"Chess."

"Good."

He slides his jacket off his shoulders. Then the tie. It's as slow as humanly possible. I shift back, testing my mobility. My legs are free. I can do whatever I want with them. My arms can move a few inches in any direction, but that's about it.

I crane my neck to look at Blake, but I can't manage much of a view. I can feel him though. The warmth of his body. The weight of him shifting the bed. The sound of his breath. He takes off his shirt. I know what that sounds like. Then there's a zipper. The bed shifts as he slips out of his pants.

He comes into view. One hand plants outside my shoulder. The other brushes hair from my face. Blake stares into my eyes for a moment. There's almost something sweet about it.

His lips connect with mine. All the want buzzing around my body collects between my legs. We've been at this foreplay all day. Waiting any longer would be torture, but I'm clearly not in a position to negotiate.

I slide my tongue into his mouth. He kisses back, harder. His hands slide down my chest. He circles my nipples with his thumb and forefinger. Then it's down, all the way to my belly button.

He kisses my neck. My chest. My stomach. Right below my bellybutton. My sex clenches. His mouth is so close.

Blake grabs onto my thighs and shoves them apart. My knees smack against the bed. My eyelids get heavy. I suck in a deep inhale. I'm sure I'm blushing. It's hard not to feel self-conscious. I've never had anyone that close.

"You smell fucking good," he says.

Something in me relaxes. I arch into him as much as I can.

Blake holds my thighs against the bed. I shift my legs just to see what he'll do. He digs his nails into my skin until I cry out. That pain feels good, too.

No waiting. He runs his tongue over my lips. His mouth closes on my left side and he sucks hard. Pleasure overwhelms me. It's so much, so unlike anything else I've ever felt. He's warm, soft, and wet all at once.

He licks me from top to bottom. Every movement of his tongue feels damn good. I try to contain the sensation by shifting, but I've got nowhere to go. I buck my hips. He holds me tighter.

The only thing I can do is moan.

He draws all sorts of delicious shapes over me. A circle, a triangle, a star, a heart even. I don't bother to complain that it's romantic. His mouth is some kind of marvel. I don't bother wondering how he learned this. I don't care.