His Terms

She imagined exactly where he would spread the white, fluffy topping on her body. She crossed and uncrossed her legs about a hundred times thinking about that, and then when he finally came back and escorted her to the bedroom, she had to force herself to walk straight.

Yeah, this was going to prove to be one interesting week, especially when she felt her resistance crumbling already.

14

Rian gave her half an hour to bathe, and that was being generous. He could have watched her wash herself, run that sponge along her curves, her breasts, and between her legs, but he’d given her this moment of privacy. She had only been here for a small window of time anyway, and he could not be this selfish bastard with her just yet. But once she was finished all bets were off.

She would be his, would be by his side for the entire seven days, and he’d show her off. He did have to work from his home office during their time together, and had several functions to attend this week, had purposefully had them scheduled this way so he could take her with him. He wanted others to see that she was with him, because she was this gorgeous example of what a female should be like.

He tossed back the rest of his scotch and contemplated going for another glass. He had drunk two already, but a third was starting to sound more appealing. Instead of risking getting drunk and not being able to fully enjoy the night sober, he set the cup on the coffee table and stood. He moved toward the windows that overlooked the city and clasped his hands behind him.

He was having a hard time being around her and not showing at least a small amount of control. Normally Rian didn’t fight the desires he had, didn’t try to tame himself, but he found himself doing that because he didn’t want to frighten or make Sorcha feel uncomfortable. He told himself he only had a week with her, and that she knew what she was getting into, but for the last six months he’d watched her, grown fascinated with her, and had this sort of obsession concerning his secretary. Of course he’d never admit that to anyone, least of all her, but it was what it was.

He headed down the hallway and to his bedroom. There he leaned against the partially opened doorframe and watched as she slipped out of the bathtub and reached for the towel. The water and bubbles slid down her back, along the crease of her big, round ass, and trailed down the length of her thighs. She wasn’t thin by any means, not sickly skinny like the women he had been with before … like the women that were part of the elite society he associated with.

No, Sorcha was all curves, full and lush in all the right places. Her hips were wide, generous, and when she turned to the side slightly he got a sight of the slight roundness of her belly. Her legs were long, thick, and made to wrap around his hips to hold on as he fucked the hell out of her. When she bent slightly at the waist to get the towel he got a small glimpse of the pinkness between her legs, and his cock jerked forward.

He palmed himself through his jeans as he watched her towel off, and when she turned around and gasped at his voyeurism, he grew harder still. He ached, fucking ached, to be buried inside of her, and that time had come now.

“How long were you standing there?” she asked softly, and held the towel tight against her damp body. She was red from the bath, and the room smelled like lavender. She’d smell like the flower, and he’d run the tip of his nose up and down her body, memorizing that smell.

“Long enough.” He pushed away from the doorframe, moved inside of the bedroom, and shut the door behind him. They were alone, would stay that way until tomorrow morning, but a closed door always alluded to the idea of privacy. He moved closer to her, watched as she moved a step back, and smiled in amusement. “You actually think you can run from me, Sorcha.” He tilted his head slightly, scanned his gaze up and down her body, and then looked back into her eyes. “That’s cute.” He stopped when she came up against the wall. “You look afraid.”

“I am … a little bit.”

“You’re afraid of me?”

She shook her head. “No, not of you, but of what you want to do to me.”

Her voice had this power moving through him. “And I plan to do a lot to you, Sorcha.”

“I’m a little concerned there will be—”

“Pain?”

She nodded.

“You’re afraid I’ll hurt you because that’s what gets me off?”