The Bride (The Boss 3)

“I only ask that you keep your expectations lowered. I know I may seem…”

“Confident? Outspoken?” Emir sniffed a laugh. “Slightly arrogant?”

“I was going to say dashing and handsome, but yours work very well,” I admitted. “Joking aside, I worry that what happened to me the last time I put myself in a submissive role will happen again. That I’ll be… too hung up on protocol, afraid to do the wrong thing, and I’ll put myself in a bad situation. But I would like to sub for you tonight, Emir. I’ve been in intimate circumstances with you before, and if I were ever going to do it with anyone, you’d be on the top of my list.”

“That’s very sweet.” He set his wine glass on the end table. “I value your trust. I won’t do anything to harm it.”

When he leaned toward me, I met him half-way, tilting my face to adjust as his mouth met mine. It had been a long time since I’d kissed a man, and a thrill shot to my groin at the unexpected brush of sharp stubble around his soft lips.

He pulled back a little. “Should we go somewhere…”

“Let’s go upstairs,” my voice was a desperate rasp, startling me. I’d had no idea I wanted Emir so fervently, until the moment it seemed the possible would become reality.

Every step we took to the bedroom sent urgent, pounding desire through me, but I kept myself restrained. Though there would be nothing I’d like more than to grab him and force him up against the wall, the way I would Sophie, Emir wasn’t submissive to me.

On the last flight of stairs, he had already pulled his t-shirt over his head. To say the man was in shape would have been akin to saying the Louvre had a few paintings in it. I had the sudden, unpleasant urge to make comparisons that were terribly unfair to myself. I had fifteen years and a harrowing experience with cancer in my column. Obviously, I couldn’t expect to have the physique of a male model, but it was a bit daunting to imagine getting naked with someone who did.

We stopped beside the bedroom door, and he reached for the handle with me, his big hand covering my own. “Nothing that you don’t want to do tonight. And I mean that.”

An electric chill, the full force of my lust toward him, snapped through me at that contact. Now that it was awakened, that wicked, purely sexual part of my mind would not be denied, would not make any apologies for seeking pleasure and reveling in it.

Inside, I dimmed the lights and motioned toward the bed. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a moment.”

I went through the dressing room, into the bathroom, where my first stop was the medicine chest. The last thing I’d want would be to get out there and be unable to… maintain. It had happened a few times with Sophie, post-transplant, and I’d been so utterly embarrassed, dire countermeasures had been needed. Though I didn’t appreciate the reminder of my rapidly advancing age, I took out the bottle of little blue pills and swallowed one with a handful of water from the tap. I hoped the food and wine wouldn’t put as large a dent in the medicine’s effectiveness as the pamphlet had indicated.

I slipped off my shoes and socks and put them away, and paused in front of the toy cupboard. Though some of the contents had migrated to New York with us, some necessities remained. I took a variety of condoms, a bottle of lube, gloves, and some dental dams; it didn’t seem presumptuous to be prepared for anything.

Emir sat on the edge of the bed, his shoes and socks slipped off, leaving him in his jeans and nothing else. His olive skin was burnished by the low, warm light, and he grinned at me as I placed our supplies on the bedside table. His hand caught my wrist, and I let him pull me down. He tilted his face up, and I took that for the invitation it was.

Our lips met, and I leaned him back, following him to the bed. I sank my fingers into his soft, dark hair and tugged gently, pulling his head back to bare his throat as my mouth wandered from his, across the stubble on his face. He moaned, and his fingers dug into my back through my shirt.

“I thought you were the submissive tonight,” he reminded me with a laugh I felt beneath my palm.

Emir’s body was a symphony of contradiction; satiny skin stretched over rock-hard muscle, a hairless chest in defiance of the thick dark hair on his arms. His cologne was faint and spicy, and I nuzzled my face into his neck to breathe deep.

Next to touch, scent was my favorite erotic sense. Some mornings, just smelling the lingering hint of Sophie’s shampoo in the shower was enough to make me desperately horny. I didn’t know what aftershave Emir wore, but it would be seared into my scent memory in a similar manner.

Emir’s hand slipped into my collar, and he tugged on the buttons of my shirt. “Take this off,” he growled against my ear, and the command was shockingly erotic.

I sat up and unbuttoned just the top few buttons and pulled the shirt and my undershirt over my head. I didn’t have a spare moment to worry about my physique or compare it to his before he drew me back down. Emir was a man who knew what he wanted.

He wasn’t the only one. I kissed down his neck, across the smooth expanse of his broad chest, and lightly grazed one tight brown nipple with the edges of my teeth. His breath hitched, and his body rose against mine as he dove his fingers into my hair.

“Stand up.”

I did, waiting awkwardly beside the bed. And oh, how he made me wait, wa

tching me wordlessly, letting the tension mount in tiny increments. He inhaled audibly, long and slow, making a decision. “I want you naked. Take off the rest of your clothes.”

Emir could command me to do whatever he wished, so long as it didn’t break our agreed upon terms, and I would obey him. Because of the control I’d already exerted in our negotiations, there was nothing left for me to decide. It was exhilarating.

I did as he’d asked and kicked my pants and boxers aside. Standing naked in front of him, I couldn’t help but mentally tabulate every one of my physical faults in comparison to his model-quality perfection.

He said my name, or I thought he had. I asked, “What?” in reply, and he laughed softly.

“No, Leif. Kneel. On your knees. On the floor, beside the bed. I should have been more clear.”

“Oh. Um.” I did as he asked, but added, “What’s the appropriate response in this situation?”