Mastered (The Enforcers 1)

Drake owned a club, but she’d gleaned from words dropped here and there that Drake had multiple business interests. She wasn’t altogether certain she wanted to know what all he dealt in that he required the security detail he utilized and hired men who looked like they could snap a man’s neck with a mere look.

No, she didn’t want to know. Some things were better left unsaid, unknown. Maybe that made her a bad person. Unethical. Not to mention stupid and naïve. But all she wanted to focus on was whatever this thing between her and Drake was and seeing where it took them.

He’d been angry. No, angry was too harsh a word. Annoyed was perhaps a better description when she’d hesitated and appeared to question his authority after agreeing to obey his dictates and submit to him. And yet she’d been aroused by the authority so evident in his voice. Did it make her crazy? Had he managed to uncover a part of herself she hadn’t known existed—would’ve likely never have known if not for him? She simply couldn’t imagine responding to another man the way she’d come to life at his touch. Every single one of his men was incredibly hot in his own unique way, and yet she felt nothing more than appreciation for their sheer masculine beauty. They didn’t cause her to have extremely erotic fantasies.

Knowing she’d taken far too much time changing and arranging her hair and applying makeup and that Drake was probably annoyed—again—she gave herself one last once-over and smoothed her dress before taking a deep breath and slipping her heels on.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob as she gathered her courage to walk back into Drake’s office, praying he approved and would be pleased with her appearance.

Swallowing back a gulp and straightening her spine, thrusting her chin up so she at least gave the impression of poise and confidence, she opened the door and walked as calmly as she could toward Drake. But inside she was a seething mass of nerves.

As soon as the door opened and Drake came into view, his gaze locked on her and fire burned in his eyes. He was silent, but his look said it all. He took in every aspect of her appearance, his gaze making a slow perusal from head to toe that had her cheeks burning every bit as much as his eyes.

“You look magnificent,” he said in a low, husky, sexy-as-hell voice that made all her girly parts tighten and tingle. “My angel has transformed into quite the temptress. I’m tempted to change my plans for you for the evening and keep you here all to myself. I don’t like the idea of sharing such an enchantress with anyone. I’d much prefer to have you in my lap so I could lick and taste and touch you the entire night.”

She flushed with pleasure and delight at the sincerity in his voice and the . . . possessiveness. She’d never considered herself a woman who would be attracted to a man so forbiddingly possessive, but the idea that he considered her his and was overpossessive of what he now considered his called to a part of her previously undiscovered. She liked it. A lot. What woman wouldn’t like belonging to a man like Drake Donovan and being pampered, spoiled and cherished to such an extreme?

“The dress suits you. It was made for you, and those heels . . . I’m going to fuck you in nothing but those heels later. But babe, no dress, makeup or shoes can make a woman like you more beautiful than you already are. You shine, no matter what you have on, and especially when you have nothing on at all. There’s not a woman who exists who’d look as good as you do in that dress and those heels. It’s all you. Don’t ever forget that.”

There was no hint of anything but complete conviction in his words and in his expression. And God, the ownership she saw so clearly in his eyes made her knees wobble. The image of him fucking her in just her heels made her clit swell and pulse to the point of discomfort.

This was a man who could have any woman in the world, and yet he’d chosen her. She didn’t understand it. Couldn’t even fathom it. But at the moment she was caught up in a fairy tale and had no desire to question the fact that this gorgeous man thought she was beautiful and that he wanted her. Not another woman. Her. Evangeline Hawthorn. Just an ordinary girl. Nothing special about her and yet he made her feel wanted and special.

She closed the distance between them and leaned down so their lips hovered a mere breath away.

“I’m glad you approve,” she whispered.

And then she kissed him, uncaring of the fact that she’d have to reapply her lip gloss. Right now she had to kiss him. Had to show him what his words had meant to her.