I fist her blouse, tugging the back up so I can touch her warm skin. “Even if I think it’s best?”
She releases a small sigh. “I’m really not that breakable.”
For a year, I’ve craved just that; to break her. Hear her desperate pleas. Feel her unravel beneath my touch. Gain control over the woman who threatened every bit of mine. And last night, I witnessed her break. Only it didn’t have the effect I once desired.
She broke me right back.
She fused herself under my skin. I can’t breathe without craving her scent. Every taste is bland if I’m not consuming her. All my senses demand only her. I may’ve broken her restraints, freed her of the ties to her pain—but she’s equally made me her captive.
I rest my forehead to hers. “Temptress, breakable doesn’t make us weak.”
As I pull back, her eyes study me, seeming entranced over my use of us. “I understand that, but it has been three years.” She blinks up at me. “I’ve given you my trust. Now you have to trust me. I want to work this case with you. I can work this case with you.”
She’s so delectably defiant. More so than I ever realized. My fingers trace the smooth skin of her waist as my gaze roams the room. “You picked a very inappropriate environment to make your stand,” I say, finding her eyes.
Her gaze tracks the wall behind me, where one of the St. Andrew’s crosses are stationed. “Or very appropriate,” she says with a hint of a smile. “I’m not opposed to mixing work with pleasure.”
A low growl works its way free as I force her close, our clothes an annoying, constricting barrier. I lower my mouth to her ear. “There’s a price for teasing me, temptress.”
She quivers a little in my arms, and I love the way my words elicit rising gooseflesh along her skin. “I make good on my debts,” she says.
This is not the same woman who entered my conference room nearly a year ago. Oh, she’s still every bit the docile Alexis I’ve fallen for, the woman who captured my being, but she’s now the complete version of herself—aware of her inner strength, even if she hasn’t fully embraced it yet.
I want to be the man to help her embrace it.
“This place doesn’t intimidate you?” I unbutton the top of her blouse, skillfully working my way down. “No apprehension?”
As I push her blouse open, revealing the lacy black lingerie she’s wearing beneath, I curse. Her smile steals over me. She knows she devastates me, can make me do anything with just one request.
“Julia took you shopping, I see.” My gaze hungrily devours her. “You bought this on my account?”
“I did.” A sultry smile curls her lips. “Do you approve?”
“Ardently.”
“And no,” she says,
lifting her chin. “I’m not scared. You’re here with me, so there’s no reason to fear.” She tentatively reaches for my tie and I nod, giving her permission. Knowing how much sway she holds over me and yet still seeking my approval is her power. The gift of another’s strength is the ultimate arousal.
Before Alexis, I thought I understood myself. The need, the desire, the absolute compulsion to dominate—there was no question of who I was. But just as Alexis was a shell of her true self, so was I. I haven’t changed. The longing to control is still present; only now it’s magnified, becoming clearer.
I don’t wish to dominate her—I crave her relinquished control to me. There’s a difference between the two that I thought I understood before, but now realize, with Alexis, I’ve only just begun to explore.
As she eases my tie free, I grasp the back of her neck and pull her mouth to mine, sensually tasting her, breathing her inside until it aches. When I release her, I take her hand in mine and lead her toward the red section. “Without a little fear, where’s the excitement?”
Her gaze widens as she takes in the St. Andrew’s cross. “I’m not sure I even know what this is used for.” Her hand reaches out toward the lacquered wood, her curious nature trumping any reservation.
“Undress,” I instruct, my breathing already speeding. “But leave the halter corset. For now.”
“A man who knows his lingerie,” she says, unzipping the side of her skirt. “That’s sexy.”
“When did you become so mouthy?”
“About the time your cock was hitting the back of my throat.”
Jesus Christ. I jerk my dress shirt off, ridding myself of the confining thing as I stalk toward her. “I think you’re trying to provoke me.” Sealing my hands around her wrists, I bring them up against the top of the X.
Her chest rises with her quick breaths, her breasts grazing my chest. The friction of the lacy material clashes with her smooth skin, sending arousing tremors all the way to my cock.