But never with her.
He slammed a fist into the elevator wall and groaned. The temptation to go up there and apologize gnawed at his gut, but he couldn’t. He was too proud, too angry. He’d never been second place to anyone, much less to a man like Roland. He’d never been used for sex. He’d been the one who used and discarded, who commanded and was obeyed.
Cursing under his breath, knowing he couldn’t talk to her until he calmed the fuck down and it was going to take a fucking long while, he went outside and listened to the pounding rain, and he pulled out his cell phone and snapped at his driver to bring the car around. In the meantime, he stepped out and let the cool rain smack him in an attempt to get rid of his infernal boner, which had tormented him ever since he’d seen her with that cashmere wrapped around her slender body.
* * *
As the seconds ticked by, Monica’s incredulity over Daniel’s ultimatum morphed into anger, until suddenly, she couldn’t contain her rage. She charged across the office hall, then out of the department store, then outside, overcome with a thousand different emotions. Her body ached, ached in a way that disquieted her so much, her spirit was raging to lash at him.
He was outside, standing in the rain while his chauffer pulled the Rolls-Royce up in front of the building.
“You!” she cried, and he turned with a scowl as she stepped into the rain with him, immediately getting drenched. “How dare you talk to me like I’m one of your strumpets!”
He stepped in closer to her, his expression thunderous. “How dare you treat me like I’m one of your senile lapdogs? Play your role with whoever you want, but I’ll be damned if I let you play the Ice Maiden with me!”
“I’m not some bimbo who will wait around to pleasure you all day and succumb to your tiniest wishes, and to whom you can issue asinine ultimatums!”
He grabbed her arm as he jerked the car door open with his other hand and then shoved her into the back, slid in behind her, and closed the door behind him. Monica ended up sprawled across the whole seat, with him above her.
“To my place,” he snapped as the driver boarded, then he slid the partition window closed so the driver wouldn’t hear or see them.
“No! What are you doing? I need to go back!”
Fuming, Monica struggled to sit up, the effort futile against his strength. “Get off of me, Daniel! Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. You said so yourself, it’s over. I’m not going to be ordered around by you!”
He pinned her down the length of the seat, his eyes dark and tumultuous, his unmistakable erection rock-hard solid against her hipbone. “So you want Roland,” he said through gritted teeth, his hands clenching her wrists, “who’ll stand by your side and hold your hand and fetch your drink.”
“Let go of me!”
She struggled against his grip, but suddenly he looked terribly big, and terribly jealous, his eyes flashing bright green. Unexpectedly, her struggles melted into a shudder of need. He dropped his voice then, and he spoke to her in a seductive murmur. “If I let you go, then who’s going to do this?”
Her clothes were plastered to her, and his hands released her to reach for the opening of her shirt, slowly flicking the buttons open. The feel of his fingertips as they unbuttoned her shirt electrified her. He’d removed his jacket she didn’t know when, but she could see the outline of his nipples through his soaked black button-down shirt. They poked, two hard points, into the material.
Heat filled her core, making the cold almost vaporize around her as a rush of cream gathered between her thighs. Her own nipples responded and, although already erect from the cold, they pressed harder into her bra and blouse.
He raked his gaze across her curves, perfectly delineated by the flimsy silk blouse she’d worn, and his nostrils expanded. “You crave my touch, Monica,” he said, suddenly foregoing the unbuttoning of her shirt and sliding his hands under the fabric to pull down the lace of her bra and engulf both mounds in his big hands.
He squeezed and caressed, massaged until the pleasure made her every fingertip tingle in pleasure.
“You ache for this. You beg for it. Your pulse goes crazy. You tremble. You arch and push up for more. You go wet and hot and desperate. It’s why you keep coming for it … it’s why you can’t think straight anymore … you want this. You need this more than you will ever know or even understand.”
She wanted him so much, a fire burst open in her belly, incredibly hot. His thumbs passed and tweaked the throbbing nipple tips, and her body arched to the almost painful touch, her hips circling eagerly in search of his erection.
“What do you think would go on with me, Monica?” He gentled his voice, his eyes liquid green as he pushed the halfway undone shirt aside to reveal one puckered wet breast, and he proved to her how in control he was of her own body, making her moan deep in her throat as he bent to devour her nipple until it throbbed.
“I’ve had it bad for you my entire life,” he said, blowing air into the thrumming crest. “Holding you while you cried in my arms without making you mine was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. You arouse me like crazy. I lust for you, respect you, admire you.… Why do you think we look for what we look for in others? What is it you think we really feel for each other?”
She tossed her head in protest, but even when bristling, her neglected breast also ached for his kisses. Her voice was raw with need. “Don’t you dare even imply that you care,” she said with gritted teeth, grabbing his head and hauling him to her breast, moaning when he exposed it through the meager parting of her shirt and laved it with his tongue. “You don’t just wear a BORN FREE tattoo and get to say this to me,” she cried.
He pulled her into a sitting position, his chest heaving as he ran a fingertip over her trembling bottom lip, his face harsh and beautiful in its intensity. “We’ve been going against what we want for over a decade, Monica. Why is nothing ever enough for me, not harder sex, not more women? Why can’t you be with another man?”
“That’s not true.” She pushed at his hand and edged down the seat away from him. “Go back to your hussies, Daniel!”
His arms quickly snaked around her and he brought her to his lap, anchoring her down. “Do you think I’ll be satisfied with someone else now? When I could have had you?” He forced her over his erection, meaningfully rocking his hips so she would feel him at the very wet and achy entry to her sex. “You’re like a drug, Monica. I can’t stop now that I’ve tasted you.”
Her face flamed as his cock continued bumping up the cheeks of her buttocks, the unmistakable energy of lust and need whirling around them, until it was more than a need, more than desire, more than a fever, until his green eyes were like torches and they had set every inch of her on fire.
The patter of raindrops continued above them, and Monica’s body was shaking, had been shaking since he’d appeared this morning.