Blackwolf's Redemption
“I would like my salad with oil and vinegar on the side,” she said, the words directed at the waiter.
The waiter looked at Jesse.
“The lady,” Jesse said, “would like her salad with—”
“You know what you need, Blackwolf?” Sienna’s voice was low, razor-sharp and ice-cold. The waiter, clever man that he was, took a quick step back. “A new tape for that—that ancient eight-track of yours. ‘I Am Woman.’ Ever hear it? ‘I am woman, hear me roar!’”
Jesse sighed. “Henley was right. You’re a bra-burning feminist.”
Sienna’s chair fell over as she shot to her feet.
“That’s it! I’ve had enough.” She slapped her hands on the table, leaned forward and glared into Jesse’s midnight-black, give-nothing-away gaze. “I was going to apologize for ruining your meeting. For speaking up. But why should I be sorry for behaving like—like a person?” She stood straight, turned her hot glare on the startled diners at the other tables. “Why should I apologize to anyone for not being a 1970s Stepford robot?”
Jesse shoved back his chair. “The check, please.”
“That’s it. Hustle me out of here. Get the—the silly little woman out of sight so she can’t make a scene.”
“Oh, there’s no check, sir,” the waiter said nervously. “None at all…”
“Let me tell you something, Mr. Macho. It won’t always be like this. One day, you’re going to have to make room for women in your—your tight little world. And when that happens—”
Jesse dumped a handful of bills on the table. “Thank you,” he said to the waiter. Calmly, not hurrying, he clasped Sienna’s elbow and marched her through the restaurant, to the elevator.
“And when that happens,” Sienna said shrilly, “just remember that I was the woman who introduced you to the real world. To the next century. To women as—as people, not as—”
Jesse pushed her into the waiting elevator car.
“Shut up, Cummings,” he said.
Then he yanked her into his arms and kissed her senseless.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HE’D meant the kiss to be soft and easy.
Okay.
Maybe he hadn’t meant to kiss her at all.
But that performance this afternoon…the way she’d bristled at the sales clerk’s attempts to make her conform to a look that was supposedly appropriate; her struggle to contain her anger at Henley’s nauseating sycophants; Henley’s indignation at being shown up for the idiot he was. And now, all that stuff in the restaurant, her refusal to be treated like a not-very-bright child…
How could he not want to kiss her?
But not soft and easy. Forget that. Forget everything but what he’d wanted all along. What she’d wanted.
What would finally happen between them.
The elevator reached the lobby. The doors slid open. He took his mouth from hers. She grabbed him and brought it back. He let her do it, let the kiss go on and on and to hell with the little delighted gasps and whispers around them.
When he lifted his lips from hers again, she gave a soft moan of protest. He clasped her shoulders and looked down into her eyes.
“Come to bed with me,” he said in a low, rough voice.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly, “oh, yes.”
“Now. Here.”
She looked around, gave a soft laugh. “Here?”
He took her hand, brought it to his lips. “Don’t move from this spot,” he told her.
It was an order. A command. And hearing it sent a bolt of excitement through her.
He was gone for only a few minutes. Then they were in a different elevator. His arm was tight around her waist. It was a gesture of possession so male, so basic, that she feared she might melt into him.
He drew her down a long hallway, to a pair of double doors. Inserted a key in the lock. The doors swung open. She saw a huge sitting room, bathed in the glittering lights of the city that stretched beyond a wall of windows. Then he shut the doors, turned to her and took her in his arms, lifted her into him, gathered her to him so that each racing beat of his heart and hers were one.
He kissed her and the world fell away.
“Jesse.” She sighed, her breath mingling with his, and he took her mouth in a kiss so deep it had no beginning and no end, swept her into his arms and carried her through the opulent suite to the bedroom.
Like the sitting room, it glowed with the reflected lights of the city. He put her down, slowly, never letting her body escape the kiss of his.
He heard the hiss of her breath as his erection prodded her belly.
She was trembling, her breathing was fast. He kissed her again and again, traced the outline of her breasts with his hands. She wore a bra, a dress, a jacket. Still, he could feel her nipples against his palms as she gasped against his mouth.